Fence Talks
by leuska
Summary: Michael is trapped in Sona, leaving Lincoln and Sara to battle together for his freedom. While desperately trying to come up with a plan to stay alive inside the walls of Sona, Sara and Lincoln are faced with obstacles and choices not easy to make.
1. One Week

Title: Fence Talks

Pairing: Michael/Sara

Characters: Michael Scofield, Sara Tancredi, Lincoln Burrows

Rating: R

Summary: Spoilers for S2, minor for S3. Set right after my story 'Again and Again and Again'. Michael is in Sona, but there is no Company after him. They are just three desperate people who try to do anything to get a normal life together. And they do some so much needed talking along the way. Pure MiSa, romance, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort and much more. 

Disclaimer: English is NOT my first language, so sorry for Any bad spelling, grammatical jigsaws and else.:) Read and Enjoy.

Warning - Before reading this story, to understand some hints, you may want to read my one-shot called 'Again and Again and Again'. 

**Chapter 1 – One week**

It was even hotter than the day before and the day before and the day before and he couldn't imagine it could get worse, but the news around Sona was often very precisely and cruelly accurate, it WAS going to get worse. 

It was visitations time again, the only thing that kept him on his legs these days, the only thing he was willing to do except sitting somewhere in some dirty corner, his back against the wall, occasionally dozing off but never really falling asleep, his hand clutching the golden ring securely hanging on a piece of string he found somewhere in the yard, secretly hidden under his long sleeved shirt. 

It's been 10 days since he walked in here and unfortunately, it didn't get better by more time he spent here. He didn't deny it, he was at the end of his strength, never really sleeping, eating, always on watch. But if was only that, he could survive. What killed him most was the little water each prisoner was getting, not a drop more. He wasn't used to such a hot weather. Hell, he was from Chicago for crying out loud! And could swear, though it was not physically possible, he was sweating more than he actually drunk. Not to mention the fact that when there was no water for drinking, there definitely wasn't ANY water for keeping oneself clean. And the thought how disgustingly smelly he had to be right now didn't keep him exactly cheery as well. He was starting to appreciate the distance the fence was creating between his visitors and himself. He sighed deeply.

The only things that ware keeping him over water – ironically, he would die for a swim – was firstly the fact his brother and nephew were safe and free. And then there was Sara. The person he got up in the morning for and the person who was last on his mind before he went to sleep. If he could call the light doze a sleep anyway. 8 days ago, she walked through that gate and gave – _Borrowed! _ He corrected himself immediately and it brought a smile to his lips – him her ring as a promise of a life they hopefully would have together one day. Michael sighed again. Right now, that life seemed unreachably far away.

There were no news as to what would happen to him next, no new evidence, no nothing. And it all seemed so easy at first. They had a body. They had the gun. They had evidence they were followed by a secret organization. But all of a sudden, everything got complicated. There was suddenly no agent Kim, nor an American citizen named William Kim, as well as it suddenly was very difficult to get the papers from US to Panama, as well as there was a problem with the Panamian Government 'believing' such a wicked story, as well it was all of a sudden in the explicit interest of the US administration to proceed cautiously to maintain good international relations with this country, a country it didn't have even an extradition treaty signed with! Nothing was ok and nothing was moving and it drove him crazy. He wouldn't mind, or at least NOT as much, when he was alone in this. But seeing the disappointed faces of his brother and Sara every day was more disturbing than if an uninterested Panamian lawyer would update him once a month. _God Sara_…He reached the fence now and while waiting, he pressed his forehead against the fence, closing his eyes. 

Sara has been visiting everyday. Ever since the first time, the time she gave…borrowed…him her ring, she's been there, talking, comforting, caring. But no matter how much it meant for him to see and hear her every day, it got harder and harder every time to watch her walk away without as much as a hug, as much as a kiss. Since the first day, they haven't had a chance to sneak a kiss, not merely a caress, through the fence. Partly because of Lincoln's presence, partly because of the bloody guards who always paid too much attention. And Michael grew more and more frustrated with every day that passed in this damned uncertainty.

Now that they were all free, well, all except him that is, and they were relatively safe, the thought of a what-could-be life invaded more and more often his thoughts, every day with a stronger urgency. And it was the uncertainty of if he would one day actually HAVE this life that drove him crazy. 

That one perfect moment, that moment on the boat, where there was nothing but them, free, happy…that was a glimpse of a life he could have and as quickly and unexpectedly as it came, the quicker got it snapped from him away again. 

No no NO! He was doing the wrong thing, he was sinking into depression, but he knew he couldn't afford that right now. If he only hadn't been so tired.

'_And there is optimism, hope, faith._' 

God, he was counting every minute of every day until visitation only to see her face and hear her voice for a couple of minutes again.

He squinted into the sun expecting to see the familiar silhouettes of two people only to see just one approach. Judging from the masculine tall form, it had to be Lincoln. Something clenched in Michael's chest and suddenly, Lincoln's figure couldn't be approaching quickly enough.

Michael's eyes scanned the surroundings once more and the second Lincoln came into earshot, he shot his question.

"What's wrong? Where's Sara?"

"Firstly, Hi! Secondly, she is fine. She is sitting in the car waiting." There was a bit annoyed and offended edge to Lincoln's voice but Michael didn't care.

"Why? Waiting for what?"

"Mike…" Lincoln sighed in frustration, taking off his sunglasses.

"Why Lincoln?" He asked suspiciously and there was a light tremble in his voice.

"Well, it was her idea, so stop scowling me. She wants to do a kinda 'separate' visitations today, ok? Apparently, my presence during the visitation isn't exactly her idea of private chat with you." Answered Lincoln a bit more irritated. The answer however, seemed to set Michael at peace. He sighed and relaxed.

"I am sorry. I know I overreacted. It's just…this place, it gets to you." Michael added quietly.

"I know bro. I am sorry." Lincoln answered in frustration. "Everyday I am leaving you here, I worry not to find you at the other side of the fence tomorrow."

"I am alright." Michael interrupted abruptly. 

"Yeah. She keeps saying that too." Lincoln raised his eyes to meet his brothers. 

"How is she?" Asked Michael quietly.

Lincoln felt a pang of anger towards his brother, it was all the same with him. Everyday Lincoln came here to visit him, but he was nothing but air to his little brother, he had always eyes only for Sara. It's not like he would mind that much, he was really happy for his brother, it was just that sometimes, it got really annoying. He was there too, after all. 

He left his mind wander to into the past. Before, just after their mother's death, when there were just the two of them. And with a pang of jealousy, Lincoln remembered also the times much later, when there still was no Sara Tancredi and it was only him who had his brother's full attention. Then again, who was he to decide who Michael chose to have in his life? By the way, it was only fair. He had a son, he had LJ. And after everything Michael had done for him, it was only fair Michael found somebody. Especially when this somebody was so special like Sara, even Lincoln with his stupid jealousy could see that. 

He focused his gaze again on Michael's face and saw a look of uneasiness on his face, damn, he must have noticed.

"Linc, I didn't mean…" He started with a choked voice but Lincoln brushed him off with a wave of hand and a cheeky smile.

"Don't beat yourself up Mike, I understand. She is a woman. Trust me, I '_understand_'."

They both stared at each other for a moment and then cracked a broad smile. It felt good, it felt like old times.

"You know, it was a good idea. Just the two of us." Michael offered.

"Yeah sure. Just that you can't wait to have me outta here to have a private moment with you girl, huh?" Lincoln winked, offering Michael a toothy smile.

"Hardly private and hardly a moment." Noted Michael bitterly, rubbing his palms absentmindedly.

"But better than nothing, is it not?" Offered Lincoln and Michael smiled half-heartedly.

"Definitely." There was a moment of silence, then Lincoln couldn't hold his enthusiasm any longer.

"One week." He said loudly.

"One week what?" Asked Michael in puzzlement.

"You are outta here. In ONE week." Lincoln explained with a broad smile.

TBC

_AN – LET ME KNOW WHATCHA THINK, FEEDBACK KEEPS ME GOING. _

5


	2. Brother's Keeper

"What

Title: Fence Talks

Pairing: Michael/Sara

Characters: Michael Scofield, Sara Tancredi, Lincoln Burrows

Rating: R

Summary: Spoilers for S2, minor for S3. Set right after my story 'Again and Again and Again'. Michael is in Sona, but there is no Company after him. They are just three desperate people who try to do anything to get a normal life together. And they do some so much needed talking along the way. Pure MiSa, romance, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort and much more. 

Disclaimer: English is NOT my first language, so sorry for Any bad spelling, grammatical jigsaws and else.:) Read and Enjoy.

Warning - Before reading this story, to understand some hints, you may want to read my one-shot called 'Again and Again and Again'.

**Chapter 2 - Brother's Keeper**

"What? How?" Asked Michael incredulous, the wheels in his head already starting to process the information.

"Sara." Lincoln answered simply and Michael's features softened.

"She was amazing Mike, she's been doing calls, camping at the embassy, calling and mailing like _everybody_ she ever even scarcely knew demanding her attention and finally, yesterday, it worked. Together with Jane and her contacts, they managed to finally convince the Panamian government of who you where as well as who Bill Kim was. There is now only the paperwork to get over with, but it's a sure thing. Just one more week bro and you are out." Lincoln literally beamed and infected Michael with his good mood.

"That's really amazing Linc...Wow! I honestly don't know what to say..."

"Yeah, great, huh? Oh no..." Lincoln frowned and Michael looked at him in puzzlement. "Now I am going to die because I promised Sara I would let HER tell you!" He said with a start like he only just now remembered and his face fell, which caused Michael to chuckle. 

"I am sure she knew you wouldn't keep you promise." Michael said and smiled anew at the hurt expression his brother gave him. Then Michael's face grew solemn again. 

"I am sorry you can't be with LJ celebrating your freedom right now." He told his brother. 

"Don't be silly Mike, you are the reason I am free in the first place, not to mention that thanks to you, LJ _HAS_ a dad to celebrate with. I few more days won't kill me."

"Still…" Michael begun but Lincoln brushed him off.

"Still 'nothing'. But what I am more interested in is how YOU are doing." Said Lincoln giving his brother an inquiring look. 

"I won't deny I've been better." Said Michael with a tired smile. "It's a hellhole in here. There are times I miss the SHU." Michael sighed, knowing he could be this honest only with his brother. Lincoln merely nodded.

"But the most depressing thing is there is nothing to do around here, the whole day. Just watch you back. Or sunbath." He finished bitterly.

"I am sure Sara will appreciate that." Said Lincoln and caused the corners of Michael's mouth twitch upwards.

"Ya think?"

"Yeeeeah. Trust me, I know women. They like dark guys."

"Is that so?" Asked Michael amused at Lincoln's rather obvious hint at himself and Lincoln merely nodded. The two brothers were now grinning at each other.

"Listen, about Sara…" Begun Michael, but then dropped in the middle of the sentence, not knowing how to proceed, how to ask his brother such a delicate question and not hurt him in the process. 

"What about her?" Asked Lincoln, already knowing he wouldn't like what he was about to hear. 

"Don't tell her. I know she is already worried too much." Said Michael, his eyes averted to the dirty floor. However, this was not what he intended to ask.

"Sure." Lincoln answered knowing there was more to the subject than that. 

"I…I only wanted to know, if…if…" Michael sighed heavily playing with his hands nervously, not knowing how to proceed.

"Just spit it out. I swear I won't slap you." Lincoln said and Michael gave a small smile.

"I hope you didn't…blame her…you know, for the way things turned out. For me being here and everything." Michael said uneasily, knowing the question was very daring but at the same time, he just needed to know. He raised his vision to look his brother in the eyes, searching for the truth.

Lincoln had indeed felt the urge to slap and tell his brother off for his little faith in him, but then decided otherwise. Michael, no matter how much of a genius, could be very a very shy and unsocial person and had very often been really bad with judging people and the reasons of their actions. Not 'playing' them, he was a real mastermind at that, but he had somehow problems when he truly wanted to get to know and understand.

"No Mike. I never did and I never would. She saved my life. Twice. If she hadn't shot Kim, I would be dead right now. Hell, if I had the choice, I would take the blame myself. She really doesn't deserve any of this." Lincoln said seriously, his gaze darting into the pools of blue.

"She is a great girl Michael." Finished Lincoln honestly, his eyes never leaving Michael's. However, he had no idea how much his words meant to Michael, who never really heard his brother's so much desired opinion on Sara, there simply never had been time.

"She is." Michael whispered in a choked voice. "How is she holding up?"

"You want the ruthless truth or a merciful lie?" Lincoln said honestly and it made Michael's insides twitch, wishing for a split second he could afford to choose the latter.

"The truth." He said firmly at last.

"She is bad Michael. She insists she is fine, but man, you would have to be blind not to notice she is barely keeping it together." 

Of course Michael knew. He would indeed have to be blind not to notice her slender figure, shrinking a bit every time he saw her, nor could he have overlooked the dark shadows under her eyes and her somewhat shaggy and tired appearance. Still, hearing it from his brother aloud, it had to be serious, had to be massive. Before he could give it any more thought though, Lincoln continued.

"She is barely eating or resting, always only working, either writing emails or making calls back to the states dealing with her father's old friends and co-workers…" Michael felt his heart squeeze in heartache "…or practically camping at the embassy and when she finally comes home she tells me she's already eaten and goes straight to bed without a word. But she is not eating nor getting any damn sleep. She tries to cover it, but every time I get up at night, sometimes more than once, she is always sitting at the kitchen counter staring absentmindedly into a glass of water. She always tells me she was only thirsty and went to take a glass of water, but I always find her like that, at any time, every night. And before the sun raises and I am up, she is already, or better said '_still'_ sitting there, telling me she simply got up early." Lincoln sighed heavily, looking anywhere but at Michael. "She is practically destroying herself." He finished quietly and Michael felt his insides twitch and squeeze in agony. Something was all of a sudden ripping at heart out, one vein after another.

"Did you try to…" He choked and stumbled over his words, his glassy eyes burning a hole into the dirty ground.

"Talk to her? Sure as hell I tried. But you know her. She reminds me of you a lot. She insists she is ok although we both know she is not. And then, you know, I am not a talkative person, nor is she. Not to mention there is just the two of us and we barely know each other. I know, you might argue that after everything we've been through, there was nothing we couldn't talk about, but it's not as simple as that, you know. YOU are the linking part in our relationship and currently, the linking part is missing."

"You know…" Lincoln continued uncomfortably, not sure if he should share the last piece of information with his already distraught brother, then decided Michael had the right to know.

"I sometimes think she takes it as a kind of punishment she induces over herself. For her being 'the culprit' and being out while you 'the innocent 'being in here. Simple as that, black and white. And that by some wicked karma or whatever bullshit, the worse she is out there the better you may be in here…Hell, I dunno Mike." Lincoln finished and shifted uncomfortably in his place. Michael was shocked just at the simple fact that Lincoln could notice and actually grasp something like that into words, it meant something was clearly terribly off. More off than he dared to imagine. 

A moment passed when neither of the brothers spoke and Lincoln could see how all this information shook Michael deeply, but he also knew his brother wouldn't discuss this matter with him any further. He only hoped he would discuss this with the person concerned, with Sara.

"Thank you." Michael said at last in a thick voice. "Can you do something for me Linc?" He continued, finally raising his eyes to meet Lincoln's. 

"Anything, bro."

"Can you take care of her? I know it's not an easy task and that's why I am asking _YOU_. You are the only person I trust with this. And I don't even know what exactly I am asking for, how you should behave towards her, or what to do at all…but maybe try to…I don't know… tell her some silly stupid stuff from our childhood…make her smile…and eat something in that process…sit with her during the night for a couple of minutes…just don't leave her alone …" He was rambling now, his thoughts scattered all around the corners of his mind, concentrating desperately to make some sense out of them.

"…I know it's so much to ask it's just, she means so much to me and in just a week I will take care of all of this myself, it's just I am here now and I can't look after her and just the mere though of what you just told me repeating itself in the next few days drives me crazy!" He finished in a distraught shout, his eyes blunt and unfocused, Michael clearly disappearing into his own dangerous dark internal world.

Lincoln felt a sudden rush of concern and worry for his brother. No matter how anxious for the well being of the people he loved Michael might be, this was a bit too extreme behavior even for him, Michael Scofield, the genius who no matter what always kept a calm composure. Sona was clearly starting to get to him too. Lincoln once again cursed this goddamn place. He looked at his brother who all of a sudden looked so lost and vulnerable and so far away with his thoughts and Lincoln thought darkly how _much_ Michael deserved to be happy, carefree and selfish for once.

"I swear I will do my best, ok? And I promise I will try to talk some sense into her, crack some stupid jokes of mine, you know I am good at that, and I will also somehow make her eat and will play cards with her from now and then, ok? There is not much work to do from now on anyway, so she won't have much opportunity to hide from me. It's only a week Mike, a week! Just try to hold on, ok?" He said gently and it was so unfamiliar of the grown Lincoln to talk in a tone like this, and so much like the Lincoln who used to be an older protective teenage brother, a brother who comforted Michael after he woke from a nightmare just a short time after their mother died. 

"Thank you." Michael was barely able to mutter, finally feeling a slight sense of relief wash over him, light creeping in through the cracks in the dark once again.

"Sure thing Mike." Lincoln said and gave his watch a glance. "I better be returning to the car and sending her in, she must be already anxious to see you." _And vice versa_, Lincoln thought with concern. Michael merely nodded while taking some deep breaths, slowly gaining his old calm composure back. Lincoln was about to turn and walk away when Michael's voice stopped him once more.

"I…um…I know it's not a very manly thing to say but I'll say it anyway. I love you Linc." He gave his brother a sincere sheepish look. Lincoln merely grinned and shrugged.

"Well, I can't blame you Mike, I know I am rather a looker." He said with a wink and Michael groaned and rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but chuckle softly.

"And I love you too Mike." Lincoln said but before Michael could say anything else, he was already making his way towards to car again to get the person for who's presence Michael has been waiting eagerly whole day long.

TBC

Leave feedback pliiize! I loooove those little messages that make my day! Also, constructive criticism is highly appreciated!

6


	3. Half Filled Glass

There she was, an all her grace, walking quickly towards to fence, as if she wouldn't dare the spent any second of their limited time together on silly things like walking too slowly

This chapter is dedicated to Amy a.k.a wrldpossibility, for her kind help and because she is such a sweetheart!:) Thank you for everything sweetie.

_Hmmm.. Just one more question…anybody out there who would like to do beta for me? As you all surely know, my English SUCKS. lol. Anyway, in case you are interested in long hours and no pay, let me know.:)_

**CHAPTER 3 ****– Half-filled glass**

"_And I love you too Mike." Lincoln said but before Michael could say anything else, he was already making his way towards to car again to get the person for who's presence Michael has been waiting eagerly whole day long._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There she was, in all her grace, walking quickly towards to fence, as if she wouldn't dare to spend any second of their limited time together on silly things like for example walking too slowly.

He observed her through the fence, seizing her up and down, his gaze so intense it made the sun pale. Lincoln's words still on his mind, he observed her more closely than ever, paying much more attention to the small details today instead of looking at 'the larger picture', Sara as whole being that always used to somehow deceive him into thinking that considering the given circumstances, she was ok.

He noticed the two size bigger jeans she wore, jeans that obviously weren't new. He also noticed that although it was terribly hot, she wore a shirt with long sleeves, so long that they covered almost the whole of both of her hands and she used her fingers to nervously pull at them as she walked. She wore a baseball cap that shielded the pale skin of her face, but it was now that Michael noticed her skin was not only as pale as it used to be back in Chicago, which would mean she didn't get to see the Panamian sun much, but it was even a shade paler, somehow ashen. The peak of the cap covered her eyes, but from now and then she would gaze up to the road ahead and he could see, as so many times before, the dark circles under her eyes. But not matter how terrible her appearances might be, today there was something different about her. She had actually a smile tugging on her lips, her walk steady and a bit frolic. She finally reached the fence and leaned against the wooden rail.

"Hi." She smiled broadly and damn, every previous thought vanished from Michael's head just like that.

"Hi." He whispered back.

"I missed you." She said, still smiling broadly.

"Well, I would say the same, but there's this new cute prison doc…" He started playfully and earned himself a small chuckle.

"She any good?"

"Nah. She counted ten toes on my feet." He said and after her amused chuckle that made his heart leap with joy, their quiet laughter died away and they were left with a serious atmosphere hanging in the air between them.

"How are you?" Sara asked worriedly, as she did everyday.

"Fine I guess." Michael replied as always with a shrug, studying her intensely in return.

"Don't lie to me Michael." She said like she always did in return, but today, she was smiling.

"What's so funny?" He asked pretending interest and genuine surprise. Her smile grew even wider.

"Lincoln was right, you _ARE_ a terrible liar Michael." She said and laughed as the understanding dawned on him. He smiled back sheepishly.

"You know, I wonder WHY on earth my stupid brother asked me to even try pretending when he told you straight away."

"He didn't. But he is even a worse liar than you are. He had it practically written all over his face and I knew everything by the time he even reached the car." She was grinning, her eyes despite the dark shadows shining with happiness he haven't seen in weeks. His heart melted at that sight.

"One week." He told her quietly.

"Seven days." She replied with a sigh.

"You are doing it again." Michael said half amusedly, half seriously.

"Doing what?" She asked, eyebrows raised in genuine puzzlement.

"Seeing the glass half empty." She sighed and hid a smile.

"Not true. YOU are seeing it half full, which is an incorrect presentation of reality. I on the other hand, see it half filled. Not full, not empty." She corrected him still smiling. They were looking at each other challengingly, an unusual amount of sparks firing between them today. Then Sara's expression changed, softened.

"You are tired." She stated without question.

"I am." He admitted. "But the news definitely aroused some energy reserves I didn't even know I had."

"I am glad to hear that." She said and Lord help him, was that '_innuendo_' in her voice? He wanted to shoot something equally cheeky back at her, but a sudden unexpected wave of nausea and exhaustion overwhelmed him and he had to grip the fence for support, closing his eyes momentarily.

"Michael?" He heard a scared call and he used all his power to force his eyes open only to find her staring at him and he momentarily lose himself in her warm ones. They were so beautiful but altogether full of such incredible concern for him, it made him wince inwardly.

"Michael, are you alright?" She called out again letting go of the railing momentarily and he watched as in slow motion as she crossed the remaining gap between them and with a short look shot at the guards tower, she quickly grasped his hands through the fence.

"Michael please, answer me." She was starting to panic, he could tell. He quickly shook his head as if to clear it, then focused his gaze again on her.

"I am sorry. It's the heat…" He said apologetically, giving her a tired smile. She put her hand up and pressed her fingers through the fence gently against his forehead.

"Jesus, you are so hot but are barely sweating. How long has this been going on?" She was slipping into her doctor manner and Michael suddenly realized he didn't have power to fight back her questions.

"Two, maybe three days." He said with a tired sigh. Her eyes widened.

"Any other symptoms except those I was just witness to?" He shook his head.

"How much water are you drinking?" She asked gently but her questions were shot quickly and he had to process them first so his answers took some time. That unnerved her even more.

"Uhm… I don't know…one…maybe two glasses a day." _God knew he was exaggerating but he couldn't let her know the whole truth. _

"WHAT?" She asked in shock. "Michael that's extremely little. A person like yourself needs in conditions like these at least half a gallon!" He knew she was only concerned and he cursed his body for letting him down like that right now. The nausea was subsiding quickly again, as well as the weakening feeling. He squeezed his fingers through the fence, hoping the gesture would assure her.

"I know, but water is a major problem in here. Everybody gets a glass, no exceptions." He winced at the fact he gave away the real amount of water he drank, but thank god, Sara seemed so in her own thoughts she didn't notice. She kicked her foot into the dirt angrily, causing the sandy dry ground to form a small cloud of dust at their feet.

"Isn't there any way you could get some more? If it's a question of money…"

"No Sara." He interrupted her gently, but firmly, his eyes often flickering from her beautiful face to the guards post, but obviously, it was too hot even for the guards, since they were nowhere to be seen, probably sitting under the straw roof having a drink themselves.

"Trust me Sara, there is _everything_ you can buy with money in here. Everything _except_ water."

"Why?" She asked with transient interest.

"If they redistribute water unfairly, the prisoners will get angry. And the people pulling the strings in here can't afford a riot."

"Is there no other way?" She asked desperately.

"The only other way is to either steal it from somebody less fortunate or kill somebody and take it." He said seriously and regretted his words immediately as he saw the dismissal and disgust in Sara's eyes.

"One week." He whispered hopefully and smiled at her through the fence. "Now I know when and how, there is _nothing_ in this world to stop me from surviving these seven days. And then I will take you to the beach with a bucket of ice and a couple of beers and limes." They both closed their eyes for a second imagining what Michael was whispering through the fence and for a second, both of them almost believed they were there. However, the moment passed quickly and Michael was left with the cruel reality of watching a lonely tear slip down the cheek of a woman he loved most in this world.

"Sara…" He breathed her name almost painfully. This was definitely _not_ the reaction he wanted to induce. Another tear escaped her eyes but she pushed them away almost angrily.

"I am sorry. I am usually not this emotional. It's just…right now, I week looks like hell of a long time." She breathed in despair.

"We can do this." He said, using the word 'we' on purpose.

"We?" She asked.

"We." He said firmly. He decided it was time to change the subject.

"I wanted to thank you." He said, loosing himself in her soft eyes once again.

"For what?" She asked, her brows furrowed.

"Lincoln told me about everything you did to get me out." He said, carefully studying her face. Color crept onto her cheeks but the subject was clearly a bit unpleasant for her.

"Well, for what it's worth, my father had more loyal friends than one would think." Sara said in a small voice, her eyes on the ground.

"It must have been tough. Contacting you father's old associates I mean…" Michael told her, clutching her fingers reassuringly through the fence and catching her gaze once again.

"Well, it was not exactly an enjoyable thing to do. But…" She stared into his eyes now, offering him a glimpse of her soul and a small smile.

"..I would do it again. And again. And again." She added the last part and offered him a knowing smile which he returned.

"You know, I like the idea of these separate visitations. We should do it this way from now on, what do you thing?" Michael asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye and was rewarded by a knowing grin from Sara. As a reflex, he once again shot a glance at the guards tower, but thank god no guard was in sight so far.

"I am glad you see it that way." She replied, a wicked grin spreading along her face. The feel of his fingers on hers made her want to jump out of her skin and she definitely wanted him to know. She gave him a raised eyebrow and a challenging look, the wicked smile still dancing over her lips and it drove Michael crazy. He scraped together all his remaining self restrain to reply.

"Sara, I am afraid that in case you won't stop this right now, I will get into some very serious trouble by tearing down this fence." He gave her a half serious smile.

"Just a small kiss Michael. Pretty please?" Sara demanded and batted her eyelashes irresistibly. He gave a small chuckle and leaned into the fence kissing her as good as possible through the thin metallic lines. Unfortunately like those few days ago, also today they had to part rather quickly and Michael only noted with disappointment how they deserved so much more. However, he was quickly grasped out of his misery at the sight in front of him. Sara clearly didn't seem to mind their surrounding nor conditions, her eyes shining with love and trust and hope and happiness and it broke his heart to break this somehow happy moment by starting the conversation he's been postponing since the time she walked in here.

"Sara listen, I want to ask something from you." He said eyes averted momentarily.

"Anything." She replied firmly with such force and at the same time gentle care it made him speechless for a second. He gulped. She definitely wasn't going to make this easy for him.

TBC

_AN – Leave feedback pls. Oh, and I can't be sure when the next chapter will be up, I had no real time to write lately, so no promises. But I hope to update soon though. Cross fingers_

5


	4. 5 Stages of Grief

Title: Fence Talks

Pairing: Michael/Sara

Characters: Michael Scofield, Sara Tancredi, Lincoln Burrows

Rating: R

This one is a bit longer, maybe to prepare you for a possible longer wait until the next chappie is up. Read and enjoy.

_OH, and a BETA stil searched…_

**CHAPTER ****4 – Five stages of Grief**

_**According to the Ross-Kuebler model, there are 5 stages of grief.**_

_**1. Denial**_

_**2. **__**Anger**_

_**3. Bargaining**_

_**4. Depression**_

_**5. Acceptance**_

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"_Sara listen, I want to ask something from you." He said eyes averted momentarily._

"_Anything." She replied firmly with such force and at the same time gentle care it made him speechless for a second. He gulped. She definitely wasn't going to make this easy for him._

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"I..." Michael begun but he wasn't sure how to proceed, so he chose to tell the short and blunt version of truth. He was done playing games with her, he swore that much to himself.

"I spoke with Lincoln. About you."

"What about me?" She asked and from her suspicious tone, he could tell she was starting to get the idea.

"About how you were. Holding up and everything." He said and although he slowly felt her fingers and hands uncurl from his until only his own were left to squeeze the fence, he didn't stop.

"He said you didn't feel that well…" Michael asked carefully, leaving the question hanging in the air.

"I am fine." She said, trying to keep a casual tone, her arms going upwards subconsciously to hug her body, a gesture familiarity of which she probably didn't notice herself.

"Yes, so you keep saying."

"I am not the only one, am I?" She said sharply, her eyebrows raising challengingly, choosing offensive in an attempt to defend herself. Then something in her features softened and she added.

"I don't deny the past few days have been kind of rough on us all, but I am doing fine."

"Lincoln might argue with that." Michael said chewing on his bottom lip, his fingers suddenly feeling surreally cold at the lack of her touch.

"Well, Lincoln doesn't know what he is talking about." Sara spat and the amount of fury in her voice took Michael by surprise. The fury was gone in an instant though, replaced by a cool uncharacteristic deadly calm.

"Look Michael, you brother is really nice and cares and I appreciate that, but I don't need a nanny, nor a bodyguard, nor an older brother, alright? I can well enough look after myself."

"I never doubted that." Michael interrupted, his tone maybe a bitter sharper than intended.

"Well good. We are all clear then, I am fine and there is nothing to worry about." She said although she was as furthest away from fine as she has been in a long time, Sara realized with an ironic pang.

"_We_ are fine." She added more anxiously, looking at Michael for a confirmation that never came. There was an uncomfortable silence stretching between them during which Michael noticed a lonely guard returning to his post. He gave Sara a pleading look that made her realize without even a word leaving his mouth that he wouldn't drop the subject. She gave a frustrated sign and started wriggling in her spot, somehow reminding Michael of a nervous, caged animal.

"Why are you doing this Michael?" She said all of a sudden, genuine hurt and despair in her voice.

"Why are you destroying this moment for us?" She asked louder, this time a straight accusation in her voice. The frustration was growing inside her, as well as fury at him for changing the subject to something as unpleasant as how she was doing, because objectively speaking, she was doing like crap.

"Why Michael? Why can you never let go? I told you I am fine and still you want to discuss it and dissect it, _why_?" Her last word was half yelled and she started to pull at her sleeves nervously in an all too familiar gesture.

"Because I am scared that you won't come one day through that gate for you will pass away somewhere from exhaustion before I get the chance to make this right." He said in frustration, wishing for his calm deep tone but knew he was far from it. He read a long time ago that there were five stages of grief. He knew Sara just passed denial and he was genuinely terrified of what might come next.

Sara was angry and frustrated and hot and furious. And she certainly didn't want to discuss anything what Lincoln might have told Michael. Just the mere thought Lincoln and now also Michael simply _knew_ how she was made her feel mortified and somehow _humiliated_, although she didn't know exactly why. Maybe because she was such a failure; she couldn't even function normally being on 'the outside', living in a comfortable room neither alone but with Michael's brother, the person standing closest to him.

And right now, when they knew, she simply felt humiliated and exposed. She felt sick, she felt ashamed and she certainly wouldn't, _couldn't_, discuss it now and here with him. So if he wouldn't give it a rest, she certainly would. You need two for a discussion, she thought bitterly and without even realizing it slipped into her shut out mode.

"Hey, you haven't told me your secret today and I was wondering…" She switched the topic talking in her casual tone again but was cut off abruptly.

"Not now, Sara." Michael said gently, but firmly and it was enough for Sara to understand he wasn't going to drop the subject at no cost as much as she wasn't going to discuss it with him and the sheer fact he refused to respect her wishes made her unbelievably angry with him.

It wasn't only the fact he was pushing her although he knew she hated to be pushed, what angered her the most was that Michael attacked their safe ground, something she was counting on as a safe place, or better said their safe '_topic_' they could always escape to when there was some dark spot, a grim cloud hovering over their heads. They shared this since he was in this place and it infuriated her he was ruining that.

"What do you want from me Michael?" She said in a deadly cold voice, the familiarity of her words thank god staying hidden to her own ears, Michael noticed. However, it didn't stop the sinking feeling in his stomach.

"What do you want me to tell you? What do you want me to do?!" Her voice was quickly raising, and her sentence was finished in s slight yell, a strong contrast to her usual calm a quiet self. Michael noticed with a sickening feeling how one of the guards called another one to take a look at them…_them…_arguing, then both guards started laughing, clearly enjoying the show. Michael felt the frustration grow inside him as well.

He hated the lack of privacy, he hated the sheer fact they were arguing, he hated the fact he couldn't do anything to comfort and help Sara on his own and he hated the fact he couldn't simply lay on the beach with a bucket of ice, beers and this woman in his arms, hidden from prying eyes and mocking gestures of people who would _never _understand what the two of them have been through and what they shared.

"You know Michael, I am really trying, but sometimes I am simply lost when trying to understand you. Understand the way your mind works. And right now, I imply don't understand one thing, why are you pushing me? I don't want to discuss this so why won't you stop!" Then, like she couldn't think of anything better, she added. "We both know that you are the very last person on Earth to make honesty demands."

The moment those words left Sara's mouth she instantly regretted them. However, it took her only a few seconds to realized another, even more horrifying fact - this was the way she used to fight her battles with her father. The childlike, stubborn way of trying to show who could take more harsh insults before breaking first.

This time, however, was different for she was not fighting with her father and she could see now it was a pattern.

Since she was young, Sara fought with her father fiercely, always going into offensive in their arguments in order to shield herself, using the same weapons against him all over again, accusations and guilt.

Except for this time, her counterpart was a man she loved deeply, desperately even, a man who all he did in his life was try to make things right, and never for himself. Yes he did mistakes, but those mistakes she had already forgiven and now was dragging back onto the panamian sun in a sorry excuse for an attempt to make him stop confronting her. Her hands reached subconsciously into her hair, her palms sliding slowly to her mouth, her eyes everywhere but at Michael. For a moment, she was somewhere else, in her own memories, in her own dark corner.

Michael watched her closely and remembered how vulnerable she really was, a vulnerability hidden behind a mask of strength and determination. A vulnerability he didn't notice himself for a long time. He remembered her on that train to Chicago, showing him her most intimate, fragile and precious part of her soul, a part Michael was sure not many people got a chance to glimpse before.

This was not the case today though. Michael knew she was as much vulnerable and hurt and scared today, but the cold quiet fury and something else he couldn't quiet put his finger on yet was keeping her on distance. Her posture was impenetrable and it made his heart ache with pain because he knew that if he made things right, by now she wouldn't feel the need to shield herself from him.

He was feeling the frustration take once again over him, the laughter from the guards on their post - however quiet - literally rung in his ears. All of a sudden, he felt all his surroundings overwhelm him, heard every noise, saw every crowed sunbathed detail, smelled every stinky crappy scent and felt every little thing sticking to his body, every sand grain crunching under his feet. And then he felt the nausea hit the second time that day and his vision blurred again.

He stumbled away from the fence and bend forward to rest his arms on his knees, his head between his legs. Inside his head, the only sound he could hear was a loud ringing. After a few agonizingly long moments, another sound started slowly making its way into his head, replacing the shrieking sound. He couldn't distinguish what it was at first, then realized it was a continuing soothing '_hush_'. Somebody in the background was uttering words of comfort, promising everything was going to be alright, he needed to take a few deep breaths.

He followed the advice and it took him another few seconds to refocus and realize it was Sara's soft concerned voice calling out to him.

The wave of nausea was disappearing as quickly as it came, although a drained dull feeling stayed behind. He managed to straighten again only to see a sheet-white Sara looking at him, her hands clutching the railing in front of her until her knuckled went white.

"I am so sorry." She said before he had the opportunity to say anything else first. "I didn't mean what I said Michael, I was just angry and stupid and…" He walked to the fence again, locking his gaze with hers, silencing her with a shake of his head and a determined look in his eyes.

"Don't be. No sorrys, no excuses. Not anymore. Right?" He said in the most gentle voice that made her shiver. Sara barely nodded.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Michael asked quietly like the previous five minutes didn't take place at all, deciding to use the momentary distraction of him being sick to reconnect to Sara again.

"What?" Sara asked, momentarily confused.

"Why aren't you eating, why aren't you sleeping, why aren't you resting Sara?" He pressed ever so gently, desperately trying to connect to her. And Sara knew this time there was no way she could deflect him. And suddenly, she wasn't even sure she wanted to.

"Because when I try to eat, I think about you being in this horrid place and suddenly I am not hungry anymore. And when I try to sleep, I am thinking about you hugging me in that shed and suddenly I am too lonely and wretched and worried to fall asleep. And when I try to rest, I see you inside these walls with all those inmates and no guards to protect you and I am angry I _have_ the luxury to rest in piece but simply can't, with you being here always on my mind." She finished in almost a whisper, yet her eyes never left his in a despair attempt to make him understand.

"You know, the guards never protected inmates." Michael said halfheartedly.

"Yes but there were rules. And some order." She said defensively and Michael realized they skipped _bargaining_ and went straight to depression, depression he would like to skip as quickly too.

"And cute doctors. I miss that one the most." Michael offered with a small smile which Sara, surprisingly enough, returned.

"One is not enough for you?" She asked, lifting her eyebrows.

"One, especially when it's '_the One_' is definitely enough." He replied and to his satisfaction saw a bit of color creep to her cheeks again. He decided to push his luck and press one more time.

"Sara I need to stop doing this to you. I need you to stop…" he was searching for the right word but couldn't find any "…'_mourning_' me. I am here. I am alive, and that is what matters. Yes, I admit I am miserable in here, but things could have been far worse for me than they are now. I could have lost you, or Lincoln, or LJ. And I didn't. Now we are only seven days away from everything we ever wanted, we ever dreamed about. And God knows I am going to make these seven days somehow. And when these seven days are over, I am going to need you. So what I am now going to ask from you is that in these seven days time, you will be there. Your calm, rested and well fed self." She gave a small smile at the last remark.

"I mean it. I will be selfish and now very gentleman-like now, but in the state you are currently in, you will be no good to me. When I get out, I will probably need somebody to lean against. And I want that somebody be you. Do you understand what I am saying Sara?" He finished huskily and she merely nodded.

"Can you do that for me?" She slowly nodded, a bit uncertainty still evident in her movements, but to Michael's relieve, they were finally moving towards acceptance.

"There is something else I want you to do for me, but I don't know how to ask so you don't misunderstand me."

"What?" She asked, her voice a bit choked.

"I want you to stay home tomorrow…."

"What?"

"…Listen. I do not want you to come here tomorrow. _Just_ tomorrow. Take at least a day off, get some sleep, eat, maybe even a burrito…" They both shared a small smile "…sit down and decide…" He stopped suddenly, not able to continue. She gave him a silent encouraging look.

"Decide what?" Her voice was low and he found his next words made him more nervous he would ever have anticipated.

"I want you to siit down and think things through." He said gently. "Think about averything that happened to you, to us, and what you might want or expect from the future. That's what I am asking you to do and I know it's a difficult thing to figure out in a days or a weeks time."

"It's not. I've already figured that out." Sara said clearly and Michael's features softened, his chest squeezing at the warm determined loving look she gave him.

"Well then, at least try to figure out which places you would like to visit. The world is a big place." Michael said with a playful tone attached to his voice and earned himself a small smile.

"How about a hammock and 50 cent beers at Baja for starters?" Sara asked and Michael's heart squeezed anew with love and joy for her.

"I would love that." He gave her a small genuine smile.

"Well now, I should probably go. But you still owe me something." Sara said and this time, her voice was light. He grinned in amusement.

"Alright…let me think…aahh..this one you might like. Millie Stand, 7th grade." Sara gave a small chuckle and thought for a second before replying.

"Tobie Warton, 3th grade." She gave a wicked grin that would match the one he was wearing just seconds ago if not for the reaction she expected and got - his mouth agape, eyes widening like two plates.

"3th grade?!"

Sara chuckled once more. "I told you Michael, nice girls finish last." She gave him a knowing smile and Michael suddenly felt a strong urge pass through him. The change in his eyes didn't go unnoticed by Sara, who sighed ruefully. It was time to go.

"I better go."

"Yeah." Michael said but his tone didn't convince even himself. "And I meant it. Tomorrow I mean." Michael added gently.

"I know." Sara sighed solemnly. "I just hoped you would forget." She added somehow sadly. Michael's hand snugged under his shirt, retrieving the small golden ring.

"I always carry you with me." He said showing her the ring. She smiled a thoughtful sad smile, her eyes on her ring.

"Yeah, but _I_ don't." She replied with a sigh.

"Don't worry. In a month's time, you will beg me to leave you alone at least for minute." He said playfully.

"You think so?" Sara asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes and god, the innuendo returning to her voice drove him crazy. Michael gulped dryly, the air around him suddenly far hotter than he remembered.

"Anyway…" he said and a gentle smile tugged at the corners of her mouth at the sigh of a shy and flushed Michael Scofield. "…since I am not a spoiler, you will get your secret also tomorrow. Just ask Lincoln about what happened at the Easter farmers market when I was four." He said and could see a flame on interest burn in her eyes. Then she turned to the guard's tower and with a pang of disappointment at the sight of yet two of them returned her gaze to Michael again.

"The day after tomorrow then."

He nodded.

"You know you are going to regret I won't be here tomorrow, don't you?" She couldn't help the cheeky flirtatious remark.

"I do." He replied with a smirk, but a serious edge in his eyes told her he meant it. "But when I'll see you here tomorrow, I swear I will make some quality chat with Lincoln counting out your worst habits. Right in front of you." He said but couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice.

"God, I though you wanted to keep me out, not to invite me in." She grinned but then decided it was really time to go.

"Take care, will you? Try to stay as much out of trouble as well as the sun as possible, alright?"

"Alright."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Sara."

TBC

_AN – Well, I am NOT at ALL __happy with this chapter, turned completely different as I originally planned and I suspect it to be strongly out of character at some point..I am also not very happy with the dynamics…the changes of moods… I am really unsatisfied, but I simply can't put a finger on those mistakes, so pls ppl, be so kind and let me know what I did wrong so don't do the same mistakes in the future again.:) I really mean it._

_Hugs you all._

8


	5. The Message

**The Message**

It's been a hot day again. Hotter than the previous, that was hotter than the previous. He was standing at the fence, waiting as usual. He was nervous, for he didn't know what to do if she didn't keep her promise and turned up today. He knew that what he asked from her just the day before was the right thing to do. But she has been right too, he was already regretting it. He smiled at the irony of the fact that what he discovered only now she already knew yesterday.

He squinted again into the bright orange and yellow dessert in front of him, expecting, maybe even hoping, to see two figures approaching. However, when they finally passed all the required security gates, it was only Lincoln walking towards him. And although Michael knew he should be glad, _of course he was glad_, there was also a little selfish sleigh of disappointment attached to his reaction.

It took only moments for Linc to reach the fence, smiling slightly at Michael, and though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, a big rock just fell from his heart at the sight of his brother surviving Sona unharmed for one more day.

"Hey Mike."

"Hey yourself." Said Michael, his cadence cheerful.

"So how are you today?" Asked Linc casually. They started their conversation like this every day, and as every day, Michael only shrugged.

"The same as yesterday I guess."

"Is that a bad or a good thing?" Asked Lincoln carefully, squinting at his brother suspiciously. The gesture made Michael inwardly smile.

"It's a good thing, I suppose."

There was silence and they only kept staring at each other. Suddenly, there was not much to talk about. Michael's release from Sona has already been arranged and with their lives still on halt of sorts, there was nothing _casual_ to discuss.

"So, you've talked to LJ?" Tried Michael.

"Nope, not since yesterday, but I bet Jane is taking good care of him. I am gonna call him later in the afternoon."

"Good. Say hi from me?"

"Sure."

Again, silence. It was not an uncomfortable one, but it was odd still. Didn't they really have a common topic to talk about? Well, what were casual topics anyway? Football, weather, health, family, work, social life…Nothing would really work with them and right now, would it?

"Sara says '_hi_'." Was the only thing that jumped to Lincoln's mind and after catching the sudden change in Michael's features, he immediately knew he did a good decision.

"Does she?" Reacted Michael maybe too quickly, trying to sound casually, though the very though of her made him want to jump out of his skin. Lincoln could only smile, a feeling on nostalgia and a little good-natured envy sticking to him too. It was too long he felt the same way as his brother was right now.

"Yeah. Man, I don't know what you said to her yesterday, but man was she pissed at me." Although his words were sort of harsh, his voice was amused, a cheeky grin dancing along his features. Michael couldn't help but smile himself.

"Well, you surely sold her out to me." He replied with a grin of his own. "You knew I would be merciless once I got the chance to talk to her."

"I bet you were. She didn't say a word to me until we arrived home. She literally slammed the car door into my face." Lincoln was still grinning and Michael felt his own grin spreading as well.

"Yep, that definitely sounds like Sara." He said with a happy and kind of proud mock.

"Well exactly. You ass could have warned me."

"Oh Linc, but that would definitely spoil all the fun."

"Screw you, smartass!" Howled Lincoln but he was smiling broadly. "You know, I am here on the high horse cause I have all the information you seek, so stop playing dirty and better start behaving or I won't tell you a damned thing about yesterday. And I _know_ you are dying to know the details, so cut the crap." He was looking smugly at Michael who couldn't help but laugh out loud. His brother's manner already told him everything he needed to know, but anyway, he really wanted to be filled on the details.

"Ok, ok. I am sorry." He said, but Lincoln was still eyeing him expectantly.

"What?"

"I am waiting for the magical word…"

"What? Abracadabra?"

"Dammit Michael, you always have to have the last word. A simple _please_ wouldn't kill you, would it?" Michael merely shrugged.

"C'mon!" Linc howled.

"No way, I won't _beg_ you simply because you are the older brother!" Michael laughed cheerily. It felt so good to be able not to be so serious for once. "I am a patient man and I _can_ wait until tomorrow. Sara will waltz in here and fill me in on all the juicy details herself. Her own version of yesterdays events, of course." Now the smug expression changed from one brother to the other, Lincoln being the one slumping his shoulders in defeat.

"Alright, I fold."

"Smart boy."

"Hey, cut that boy!"

"Smart _girl,_ then."

"I swear to god Michael, don't make me come over there or…"

"…you'll do what?"

The brothers eyed one another for a couple of moments, the started chuckling once again. God, they were really being childish now, but it was their way to express feelings for one another. Feelings that even for other siblings might be hard to understand when not being in situations like these two brothers were together in since so many years ago.

"So is she good?" Michael asked in a quieter and more serious tone.

"She will be." The amount of sudden seriousness in Lincoln voice matching Michael's immediately. He knew how much this subject meant to his brother and he didn't want Michael to think he was irreverent to it. "She was really angry with me, true, but I have to say in my defense, that I think she wasn't talking to me also because she was deep in her thoughts most of our drive back. Whatever you said, I think sunk deep and in the end worked. And let me express my deepest admiration to that, because the past few days of my life taught me a valuable lesson; _never_ underestimate the stubbornness of a governors daughter." Linc meant his last words as a joke, of course, and Michael had to smile once again, for there was so much truth in that little statement Michael had the chance to experience himself on so many occasion before.

"Did she eat something?"

At this, Lincoln actually sputtered in disdain. "If you call an apple and a banana food, then yeah, she ate." Michael gave another soft chuckle.

"Something tells me you shared this opinion not only with me."

"Damn right. And I will never do so again. I got a 30 minute long lecture about _my '_disgusting' food issues." Cried Lincoln indignantly and Michael had to laugh out load at this, the image almost priceless.

From all those past horrible days, this seemed kind of… _liberating_. A heavy weight finally lifted of Michael's chest, he felt the urge to smile more than maybe necessary, but he didn't give a damn. He left his mind wander away for a brief moment, then asked anew, returning to the more serious part of their conversation.

"Did she get any sleep?"

"Well, I don't know, unfortunately the two of us don't share the same room nor bed…" Now it was Linc who valued Michael's expression priceless, "…but although she was still reading through some papers at the time I went to bed, I guess she got at least a few hours of sleep. That horrible mess she called a 'fancy self-made haircut' was pretty good evidence to me in the morning." Michael smiled once again at the picture, hoping that in less than a weeks time, it would be him who would get that particular experience himself first hand. First _hand_ meant literally here. God he adored her hair so much.

"Listen Linc, I have something here for Sara, could you please give it to her?" Michael said tentatively and drew something from his pocket, casting a glance to check the guard was not looking until he slipped the little paper object through the fence. It was a simple small white paper flower and Lincoln took just a moment to observe it closely. He never saw his brother shape an origami like this before. However, before he could say anything further, Michael was already squeezing through something else too, mumbling the words: _'And this is for you' _along the way.

Lincoln gave a smile when he spotted a small white paper crane in his hand.

"See you're pretty bored in here." Linc said, but his voice failed his attempt to cover the emotions that arose with this simple object and the meaning hidden behind it. He then quickly but carefully stuffed the two origami objects into his pocket and cast a look at the guards tower himself. When affirmed they were not looking, he shoved his hand into his other pocket and withdrew a small bottle and a folded sheet of paper and pushed it through the fence to Michael.

"I don't know if the two of you have some private Christmas I am not aware of, but that's from Sara." The way Michael was staring at the objects in his hands in sheer puzzlement told Linc he wasn't aware either.

"And yeah, I do feel like a jerk since obviously, I should have brought some gift myself, but working as the messenger between you lovebirds here will have to do." He winked and smiled at Michael, whose eyes once again returned to the bottle and paper sheet he was so eager to unfold and read at once.

"Sara says that the liquid in the bottle is some kind of mineral solution that you shall pour into your water, should help you handle the dehydration symptoms better." Lincoln said and watched his brothers features soften, a somehow sad smile tugging on his lips.

"A week seems like a hell of a long time, huh?" Michael said quietly, obviously remembering something, but Lincoln had no idea what.

"Well, only five days now bro."

"Six."

"Counting today. And I thought _you_ were the optimist." Linc said playfully, but Michael merely shrugged and Lincoln decided not to push the matter any further.

"Ok, see, I should be going." Linc said somewhat awkwardly and Michael stuffed the bottle as well as the sheet of paper into his trouser pocket and returned his gaze again to his brother, nodding unenthusiastically. The less time in visitation meant more time Sona. He sighed inwardly, but then his fingers found the paper in his pocket and he gave a small smile, at least he had something to do while waiting until the next day came.

"Be carefull, ok?"

"As always."

"Same time tomorrow?"

"I am already counting."

"We'll be here." And at the _we_, Michael's heart gave a little flutter of joy.

"Tell her I…just tell her I look forward towards tomorrow." Michael finished a bit flustered and Lincoln merely grinned.

"Sure thing."

He was about to leave when Michael's voice stopped him once again.

"Oh and Linc, did she ask you about the Easter when I was four?" Lincoln gave a devilish grin.

"Oh yeah, she did, just this morning. And don't worry, she got the _full _version." Lincoln's smile grew even bigger. "You know Mike, you really must have fallen hard for that woman. I never imagined you would tell _anyone_ else ever." The so much unfamiliar red crept into Michael's cheeks at that.

"But if your intentions were to make her laugh, well, you did a wonderful job. I told her during breakfast and she literally choked on her juice and fell from the kitchen stool, but don't worry, no harm done. Maybe except your pride." He gave Michael another wink.

"Well, you know what they say, _through thick and thin_." Michael replied, a deeper addendum to his tone.

"Yeah…" Said Lincoln thoughtfully. "See you tomorrow then."

X X X

It took Michael almost 20 minutes until he found himself a quiet and 'comfortable enough' place that he though was worthy of reading Sara's letter. He once again looked around and when he saw no one at hand, he carefully withdrew the paper from his pocket and started unfolding it. He couldn't help but notice his fingers slightly trembling. Before he could read a single word however, he notice something else slipping out as he was unfolding the paper, something he recognized but didn't believe to ever see again. He wasn't even sure how it was possible _she_ still had it. It was, though a little crumpled and flatted, the paper rose he once gave her in Fox River for her belated birthday. He couldn't believe that after everything that happened and all the time and space passed ever since, she still she kept it and took it even to Panama with her. And the thought behind this simple gesture made his heart squeeze tighter, almost painfully, in his chest. It took him several moments until he was able to withdraw his eyes from the flower in his hand, but he finally managed to open the letter and started to read.

_Dear Mr. Scofield,_

_S__ince my presence at Sona was unwished today, I humbly accepted your generous offer to stay home and think some things through. The truth is, I was firmly determined to come today anyway, but then decided to do another thing instead, a thing that would unfortunately require my presence somewhere else just during the time of visitations. _

_Don't freak out Michael, I am fine and am not doing anything dangerous or crazy (well, that depends on the result I guess...), however, sad to say I can't tell you so far for it shall be a surprise (one you will like I hope). Either way, I promise I will make up for my lack of presence today to you tomorrow._

_I hope you are fine and staying out of trouble. Please, take that solution with your water, it should make you feel better and also ease the headaches a bit. I know that by sending it to you I endangered you, it's contraband and I hate the thought of you possibly being caught with it, but the thought of you passing out somewhere inside those walls without anybody looking after you is even more unsettling._

_I am sending you the rose you've once made for me. As you can see, it needs some fixing, and again, it is one of the things I will claim back as soon as you get out, so you better start restituting it._

_Anyway, I will see you tomorrow. 2 down, 5 to go._

_Love you,_

_Sara (but__ Doctor Tancredi will do, too)_

_PS – I spoke to Lincoln this morning__ but I am not sure he didn't lie or exaggerate big time, because if _that's_ true, I will eat my shorts. Bunnies. REALLY ?!_

_PS2 – I pay back my debts – my mother had red hair too._

Michael read the letter over and over for at least a dozen of times and during this whole time, he couldn't stop smiling. Then he finally carefully folded the letter again, slipping the rose in between the folds of paper. He couldn't help but think about the unbelievably impeccable timing he chose to send her the new rose, it was simply perfect. He merely couldn't wait for tomorrow, it couldn't come quickly enough.

TBC

_AN__ – Leave your thoughts, I love to hear them, but unfortunately, I am not a telepath, so you need to write and submit them here first. Kiss, Liz._

7


	6. Copper and Pipes

_Ok, finally (!) I got the __time to do some writing and as a result, here I give you the next chapter. I made it somewhat longer than the others, but it was a natural thing to do as I was going along with writing it, anyway, hope you will enjoy it still. Oh and don't pretend otherwise, I know some of you, addicted freaks. ;)_

_I also wanted to thank all you wonderful people who read as well as those who review, you give me inspiration to write even if I fall do__wn on my nose from exhaustion._

_But enough of me now, Gimme some Michael/Sara! Hehe, so here goes…_

The biggest thanks to Elle a.k.a **lssilence** for doing the beta as well as those wonderful suggestions and changes, honey, you surely deserve all that money I am not paying you! So I am afraid a simple but honest _thank you_ will have to do! You made the most marvelous job and definitely made this chapter a far better one that it actually was in the beginning. :)

**Chapter 6 – Copper and Pipes**

It had been a hot day again, but for the first time in days Michael was not bothered by it. He was smiling ear to ear with eager anticipation for his visitors. Today was a good day, which, under the circumstances he was currently in was definitely an odd declaration to make. He was being too impatient, he knew, literally dancing back and forth on his spot.

They were not late, they came at the same time every day, and today would be no different. Yet today Michael had news he was rightfully proud of and wanted to share with the people that mattered most to him. Today, he felt like an actual human being again. The man he used to be, the man he so long worked to become. He felt like his older, 'pre-Fox-River-self'. Even if he knew the feeling would last only for a couple of hours, they would be worth every penny, he was sure.

The door at the far end of the enclosure of sand and dust opened to reveal two very familiar figures. One tall and broad-shouldered, walking with a confident steady pace; funnily enough shielding his eyesight with sunglasses but not protecting his short cropped head against the possibly devastating effects of the burning sun.

And there she was right next to him, walking in long strides to catch up with Lincoln. At first sight she could have been, mistakenly, considered fragile; especially against Linc's bulky frame; but Michael knew better by now. To Michael's astonishment and pleasant surprise, she was dressed differently today. More…hard to say, but one would probably call it a more _feminine way _compared to what Michael was used seeing her dressed in. It was difficult to judge this fact, however.

It could be hardly called a sensible decision to dress too feminine to your daily work as a female doctor in a maximum security male prison. Consequently, Sara's true dress preferences stayed hidden to Michael. And out off all the other occasions when he had chance to observe what might possibly be the customary content of Sara Tancredi's closet, there was only one singular time that he could possible think of; when he saw her on the deck of the Christina Rose. The sun streaming down her slim figure covered by a simple pair of fitting jeans and that comfortable loose white shirt.

Since then, all the other outfits she wore to Sona painfully reminded Michael of the time on the run, the choice of clothes obviously not cared much about as long as they served their purpose. The saddest thing however, was that in the past few days, the clothes were the ones wearing a distraught and weary Sara; instead of Sara wearing the clothes.

Today though, Michael's eye for detail caught something that made him smile in joyful pleasure, causing a warm feeling to spread all over his insides, a feeling that had nothing to do with the Panama heat.

A classic but new, and obviously very carefully picked to 'hug-in-just-the-right-places' jeans accompanied with a fitted short-sleeved blouse of dark red silk, were definitely an ambitions choice of clothing for a visitation in one of the worst and filthiest prisons in this part of the world. Michael couldn't help a sudden smug feeling that maybe all this effort had been done for him and him alone. At the same time however, a more gentle thought quickly followed; a thought that this woman deserved every right to be self-assured or vain, simply just girlish if she wished so, just for once. Michael contemplated just how very much he would love see that day come; smiling despite himself. Sara would never give him that particular pleasure; of seeing her behave in - what she would probably call - a superficial and silly way. Still, he hoped she would at least allow him to spoil her a little bit from time to time.

Again, a fresh wave of pleasant feelings filled his chest and he smiled a proud and mocking smile when noticing the dropped jaws of the guards at their posts. He might be the one inside Sona, but he was sure as hell that not a single one of them had a girlfriend like _this_ waiting home for them.

They were talking silently while they were walking, but with Lincolns quick strides, they were nearing pretty quickly and Michael was trying to use the remaining time on deciphering, why on earth Sara wore a baseball cap at least three sizes too big and absolutely unfitting to the rest of her outfit. It was possible that she was simply too hot and wanted to shield her head and face.

They were not far away now and when she finally raised her eyes and caught his gaze, uttering a mischievous '_hi_'. It was only then a stunned Michael realized the true reason she kept that impossible cap on. Grinning, she shot an amused look at Lincoln who only grinned back and then with one long swift motion, she snatched the cap from her head to reveal a cascade of finely cut, silky copper hair that fell to her shoulders. Michael wasn't in the state to do anything else then gaze dumbfoundly in astonishment.

From a purely outward point of appearance, this was not the Sara from two days before. Nor was this the Sara he was on the run with. And in a way, it was not even the Sara he met in Fox River. This was obviously a woman who knew her goals as well as her means and who now managed to blow him off his feet completely. While Michael still stared, Lincoln withdrew his hand from his pocket, took his cap from her hand and put it back on his head and then held out his hand towards Sara shamelessly. She rolled her eyes pulling out a 10 dollar bill handing it to Lincoln, muttering something in a sarcastic tone that sounded like _'…you didn't play fair, the cap was not a part of the deal …'_

"You are just a bad loser Sara, admit it. Get used to it, when it comes to my brother and his _lady_ issues, I know best." He gave her another wide grin and then finally directed his gaze at Michael.

"Hey little brother. Don't forget to shut you mouth." It was only then when Michael realized he looked as dumb as the guards at their posts and he quickly followed his brother's advice. When he redirected his gaze back to Sara, he could see her features changing, now looking rather uneasy and expectant.

"So?" She asked with apprehensive anticipation, running her hands somewhat self-consciously through her freshly styled hair, giving a small and slightly nervous laugh.

"I _love_ it." He said without hesitation, giving her one of his most radiant and assuring smiles.

"Honestly?" She asked again, her eyes pleading for honesty and all the amusement was momentarily gone from her voice.

"Definitely." He said a bit huskier than expected while boring his eyes deep into hers. Sending signals that could leave absolutely no trace of doubt; but instead brought out something much more powerful.

Sara was the first one to break the eye contact, suddenly painfully aware of the place they were in as well as Lincoln's presence so close, leaving a slight trace of angry frustration inside Michael. '_Just a couple of days'_, he tried to reason with himself.

"What about me?" asked Lincoln in comical mocking. "Do you see the _change_?" He gestured to himself like there was an actual change in his appearance. Michael decided to play along pretending to eye him carefully, seizing any possible changes that might have occurred since the last time the two saw each other.

"Yeah, you're right." He said slowly. "You look massively . . . swollen-headed. You really should wear that cap, it looks pretty bad." Michael said in a serious voice that didn't conceal his mocking tone at all. Sara gave a little giggle before biting her tongue, but the damage was already done.

"What do _you_ know?" Replied Lincoln quickly. "I am _not_ the one who told Cassie Squalin babies are delivered by a stork!" Sara bubbled with laughter.

"I was 8!" Michael shot back in an instant, officially acceding to Lincoln's challenge.

"Exactly!" Bellowed Lincoln in an uncharacteristic way, roaring with laughter.

"At least I didn't borrow mom's car only to 'park' it into the wall of the next police station!" Michael said giving a small laugh at that particular memory.

"Like you were that perfect. The first crane you folded looked like an ashtray." At this point, Sara who was still then giggling madly at the sibling banter; holding back and simply enjoying this whole conversation immensely; gave a little squeal followed by a loud snort.

"You told me they _didn't allow_ you to do anything else than ashtrays in Whack Shack!" She said and giggled anew at Michael's blank face.

"Lincoln is afraid of spiders!" He tried to save anything that was left of his pride.

"Spiders? You're afraid of bunnies!" Said Lincoln and Sara laughed even harder at the story she heard only the day before. When catching the somewhat ashamed expression on Michael's face, she decided to take mercy on him.

They had had enough of silly conversation for one day and it was time to end this before anyone would get hurt. She knew only too well that where there was laugh, there were also tears at hand. However, she surely would store some information from this particular conversation for later use.

"You look good." She almost whispered, focusing her gaze entirely at Michael again.

"I feel good." Michael replied with a gentle smile, "The solution you sent helped. Thank you."

"I'm glad. You truly look better. And thank you for the rose. It's beautiful." She said obviously embarrassed to have to admit something like that in front of Lincoln, but she didn't want to leave it unsaid, vowing never again to leave things unsaid between them. _She should know better by now._ Literally.

"Uhm…" She cleared her throat, continuing with a more casual conversation.

"…we brought you another bottle of the solution today. Just tell us when the guards look away and Linc will slip it through the fence, ok?"

"Thank you for the offer. But I'm afraid I won't need it anymore." Both of them gave Michael a quizzical look. His time had come.

"Yesterday, when I was reading your letter something clicked. I remembered what we were talking about last time; if there was no other way to get water in here. You were right, there is always another way." While talking, Michael was giving Sara a piercing look that felt almost shamelessly exposing, causing her to shudder with suppressed craving for the man behind the fence. As if he noticed just then what his look was doing to her, he averted his gaze; looking at Lincoln instead. Whatever she might feel at that moment was nothing compared to what _he_ was feeling right now; what he was feeling from the very moment he spotted her today. _Scratch the last word, _Michael thought, amused momentarily by his uncharacteristic lack of self-restrain. It was supposedly a good sign. It meant that after everything they endured, they were still human. He flashed Sara a quick smile before redirecting his gaze to Lincoln, explaining further.

"I did some research on the water pipe system yesterday, asking why it wasn't working. It seems the damage was done during the last riot and is surprisingly minor; but since I doubt any engineer has ever made his way into Sona before there was no one to repair it. So, as from yesterday; there is enough water for everyone." He offered a warm, proud smile to both perfectly stunned faces.

Lincoln was only able to mutter a silent _'Fucking genius…'_

Sara's face however, mirrored exactly what Michael was hoping to see; appreciation and pride. Lincoln started a long ramble of how incredible it was of Michael and It really meant a lot to Michael, not to get that one wrong, but he was still a bit anxious at Sara's reaction to this news.

In a strong contrast to Lincoln's loud speech, Sara only curled her fingers through the fence to cover Michael's in silent understanding, and to his sheer astonishment, he noticed her eyes to lightly fill with tears.

Her silent appreciation for what he had done meant so much to Michael. He and Sara, they both shared a very similar view on prison life; on how even little things mattered in a place like that. The fact that Michael helped not only himself, but so many people inside Sona to a better quality of life, spoke volumes.

But there was a far deeper tone attached to this whole matter for Michael. This was the first time she could see him as someone else than a convict or an escapee. For the first time, he could_ show_ her, in real evidence, who he was before they met. Out of all those lies he told her in Fox River, out of all those carefully disguised truths, he could prove one thing he didn't lie about. He _was_ a skilled engineer, other people honestly mattered to him, and he truly could be useful other than robbing a bank.

Sara, of course, knew all these things a long time ago. And she definitely didn't need any stupid evidence to prove to her what a gentle and caring but also uneasy and troubled soul was hiding inside of Michael Scofield, but _he_ obviously needed the assurance. So she stood there quietly, silently squeezing his hand, allowing him to penetrate to the very deep of her soul with his look, hoping he might spot how _she_ saw him through her own eyes.

"So you are a fucking rockstar now in there, right?" Beamed Lincoln enthusiastically, unaware of the fragile enchantment he just broke between his brother and Sara. Michael reluctantly withdrew his gaze from her, still squeezing her hand in a gesture of silent apology.

"I guess so. The man who's running this place and his gorillas are thankful, sure." Replied Michael, skipping the fact that a group of men who planned to start a riot through the water issue weren't on best terms with him right now. But there was no need to worry the two of them. He once again redirected his gaze at Sara. He still couldn't believe the sight of her. She was smiling, her copper hair gleaming in the afternoon sun. He so wished he could touch it. Then a though occurred to him and his face broke into a disbelieving smile.

"_My mother had red hair too._" Michael quoted loudly and saw a mischievous twinkle in Sara's eyes that only affirmed what he already suspected. "I must really be dense. You were telling me yesterday, in your letter, weren't you?" She only smiled broader which caused Michael to shake his head in disbelief.

"Well, being worth five million dollars you really need a good looking girlfriend." She said, shrugging in a kind of breathless voice, averting her gaze from Lincoln, who was grinning like mad.

"Yeah, well, until yesterday you had a boyfriend who didn't shower more than once a fortnight." Michael said with a wink, luring a big smirk out of Sara.

"I don't know what you are used to Scofield, but something like that won't be tolerated anymore."

"Amen." Concluded Lincoln. There was a moment of silence, it was time to leave but not one of the trio really wanted to.

"I guess that's 3 down, 4 to go." Said Lincoln tentatively.

"Yeah." Answered Michael lowering his gaze somewhat nervously, something that didn't go unnoticed by Lincoln.

"You ok?" Lincoln asked carefully, though he already suspected the answer. He only achieved a weary '_yes_' from Michael and a confused look from Sara. Whatever was suddenly bothering Michael, he wouldn't tell.

"Ok, we better go." Lincoln turned to Sara. "You ready?"

"Yeah." She said in one long exhalation, but she didn't make a move, her gaze still fixed upon Michael.

"Linc…" Michael started, but Lincoln merely raised his hands, stopping Michael in mid sentence.

"No need Michael, I got it." He curled his hand over Sara's upper arm, telling her he would wait in the car for her, giving Michael a reassuring smile.

"I'll be here tomorrow." He nodded a last time in Michael's direction, turned and left.

"You look… _divine_." Michael said right after Lincoln left, not wasting a second. He could see he startled her evident as her checks started to turn red, but to her luck, she was able to recover pretty quickly.

"A lame attempt to get into my pants, Scofield?" She shot back and giggled as well as blushed at the sight of Michael eyes involuntarily shooting down her torso, searching the little skin visible between the hem of her blouse and her pants.

"Love those jeans." He said after a moment of composure.

"You are not the only one." She said somewhat annoyed. Michael frowned.

"Somebody harassing you?" He asked seriously, narrowing his eyes.

"No, no." Sara hastened with her answer, rolling her eyes. "Just some stupid remarks from the visitation officers. They think that just 'cause I am a rich _chiquita Americana,_ I don't speak dirty Spanish."

"But you do." Said Michael amused and all of a sudden very intrigued.

"I worked at Fox River Michael. And not all _hombres_ were like Sucre." She said with a smirk.

"But yes, there is still a lot you don't know about me." Michael felt a tingling sensation run down his body.

"Tell me more." He said simply, smiling wickedly. Unfortunately, Sara chose just that moment to glance at her watch.

"Another time." She said with a sigh.

"Oh, ok." Replied Michael, but he didn't feel it was ok at all. It felt that the visitation time was shortening with every day.

"Hey…" Sara said gently, noticing his sudden shift of mood. "…I will be here tomorrow, ok? We may continue right where we left. And you still have the right to hear a secret." She smiled and he couldn't help but do the same.

"What about me? Don't I have to tell you a secret in return?"

"I think I've heard enough today." Sara chuckled, remembering their previous banter with Lincoln.

"Ahh…" Both of Michael's brows raised in recognition, a smile tugging on his lips. "Just in my defense, the stork fiasco was Lincolns fault, he swore to me it was true." Sara only smiled, her face lighting up at the though of the time where children are still allowed such innocence. Michael's heart ached at the beautiful sight in front of him, knowing he could not as little as to touch her. '_yet'_, he reminded himself. In the meanwhile, Sara was thinking heatedly about a small fact she could share with Michael.

"Please tell me something embarrassing, or I will really feel stupid today." Michael offered half-jokingly, smiling all the way. Suddenly she flushed, obviously remembering something, but she didn't say a word, merely averted her gaze.

"God, you got to give me _that_, Sara." Michael said recognizing he was onto something most probably priceless, a pleading tone to his voice.

"Trust me, you _don't_ want to hear that one…" She said, honestly embarrassed now.

"Sara, there is nothing you can't tell me, I won't judge you." The way Michael said it however, was more of a challenge than assurance. Sara sighed in defeat.

"Ok, let me give you this advice. When you plan on making out, and maybe even something more with your boyfriend, don't do it in your father's study during _his_ birthday party while he decides to show his political friends the new painting he just hung up over his study's fireplace." She finished out of breath, but still had the guts to eye Michael challengingly.

"Oh-my-God…" Said Michael, covering his already grinning mouth with his hand.

"Yeeeeeah."

"I am _so_ sorry…"

"No you are not."

Michael started laughing openly. "No I am not!"

"Well, glad I could make you laugh. Now you have two options. You can either stop laughing, I kiss you and we will never talk about this _ever_ again, or you will continue laughing and I will leave this instant." She was bargaining stubbornly, but he could play too.

"How about, I stop laughing, you kiss me and we will talk about this some other time?" Michael offered. Sara turned as about to leave.

"You would be surprised that I may have an own interesting memory to contribute to yours…" Michael called after her and sure enough, she was back at the fence, eyeing him suspiciously.

"You have?"

"Well, it's definitely not as dramatic as yours, but I think you might like it. Oh, and I shared _bunnies_ with you, so you owed me this one." She was still smiling and the simple joy of seeing him smile and talk to her so carelessly, knowing he was somehow 'protected' inside of Sona from now on. The thought that he would have enough drinking water, as well as the day of his release nearing with every minute was almost too much to bear. She spontaneously bend forward into the fence and without having to wait for even a moment more than necessary, her lips were met by his own, too.

Once again, the kiss was too short and superficial. What was worse, this time it didn't go unseen by the guards who started shouting in Spanish, causing Michael to jump back from the fence at once. He could hear a silent angry '_pendejos_' from Sara that again put a smirk on his face.

"I love you." He blurted out without thinking and saw her features softened.

"I love you too."

"3 down, 4 to go, right?"

"Right." She said with a sigh. "Be careful, alright?"

"I will. But don't worry. I'm the hero now, remember?" He gave her a smile that was somehow forced.

"Every hero has enemies." Sara said thoughtfully and the fact of how close she was to the actual truth sent goose bumps down Michael's spine. There was a moment of silence.

"I do adore your hair." Said Michael changing the subject, but it was not a forced change. At least not so much as it looked at the first sight.

Sara smiled. "You keep saying so." Michael took the chance to near the fence again, considering it a safe thing to do since Sara was now a few feet away.

"I wish I could touch it." Michael sighed and there was nothing impure or sexual about that sentence.

"Soon." Sara said squeezing his hand for the briefest of moments one more time before the guards had any chance to intervene. And then left as quickly as possible; while she still had the strength to do so.

TBC

_A/N __– So…I think you got your fair share of fluff, Hell, even I feel over-suggared, but I don't know, again, the writing as I started went on it's own and I only stared at amazement at those various twist my mind was pulling out from it's sleeve just like that…_

_Anyway, let me know what I think, I hope this chapter was not too sugary or cheesy for you, even when writing fluff, I try to keep at least some degree of dignity and seriousness, lol,__ and stay as much true to the characters as possible, however, in chapters like these, you often shoot blindly, there weren't many examples of Michael and Sara parading innuendo (well, the last one is a too obvious lie, god, they were HOT like in…EVERYWHERE), but anyway, you hopefully see where I am going with this…_

_So anyway, let me know what you think, honest and constructive critic reviews are__ as always, more than welcome. I simply need you to tell me where to add, where to cast off, and where it is just right, ok?_

_I cant as__sure as to when exactly the next chapter is going to be up, it's exam time and I am head over heels in school stuff, however, I will try to write even during this stressful time, damn, writing fanfiction is the best relax I know. Until next time, then. Can't wait to read your comments._

9


	7. Left and Right Pocket

Fence talks - Chapter 7

_A__aand another chapter, took me a while to post, but you know, RL can be a real b on time. However, here we go again. Many thanks to Elle for doing the betta, all the remaining mistakes are mine. Have fun reading. _

**Fence talks - Chapter 7**** – Left and right Pocket**

Michael was wondering. How was it even possible that one day was so amazing, while just the next one went so horribly in the other direction. He should have known by now that when it came to faith; good or bad, it always came quickly and unexpectedly. Though unexpectedly did not count for today. He knew he was in trouble with some of the guys inside here, so why was he oblivious to the fact he couldn't possibly survive Sona unharmed?

He woke up to a sharp pain in his stomach and before he knew what was going on he felt another one. Michael now recognized them as blows as they started coming harder and faster, more and more blows following, into his gut, legs, torso, head, he didn't know which part to shield first. In what felt like hours, although it probably was only few minutes, everything was over. As some of Lechero's henchmen finally noticed the attack they chased away the attackers, leaving behind a crumpled bloody Michael lying on the dirty ground. Yet still, he was glad, almost happy for the knowledge no bigger damage had been done to his head or internal organs. At least not by the use of any blade, except for his upper leg, that got gashed probably by a pocket knife.

Somebody helped him to his feet and brought him to the water pipe; but who it was Michael didn't know; the details still staying fuzzy to him. Hours later he was waiting at the fence, today, for the first time, scared rather than happy at the prospect of his visitors showing up. He knew he must have looked like crap. Hell, he still felt like crap, although he tried to wash out all the blood and dirt off him. He knew his tender black and blue face and puffy eye would give him away. He sighed, feeling more down than ever. If it were only for his current state, he wouldn't mind. But something far more terrifying sat deep in his right pocket, maliciously waiting just for the right moment to show itself, making a 'grandiose' appearance. It would have to wait, however. Michael wouldn't give it that pleasure yet, not that fast.

The door on the furthest side of the enclosure opened; to reveal two very familiar figures who were quickly closing the distance; while quietly chatting to each other. Michael knew it would take only a few more steps for them to notice what couldn't be left unseen, and for a split second Michael wished he could talk to them without their need to see him at all.

Exactly as he though, it took only a few more strides for them to notice the sorry state he was currently in. Lincoln's face went from shock to anger and back again to concern while Sara stopped dead in her tracks for the faintest of moments. Michael lowered his gaze to the floor. He didn't need nor want their rueful looks.

"What the hell?!" Was the only thing Lincoln could get out of his throat, staring at Michael incredulously, seizing him up and down. Sara didn't say anything, the big lump in her throat causing her to gulp dry for a few times.

Michael decided they didn't have enough time to beat around the bush, so he simply stated the obvious: "I got beat up. The guys who wanted to start a riot over the water issue got pissed since there is no need for a riot anymore; thanks to me. But I feel better than I actually look. They're just bruises."

"Then why is your leg bleeding?" Sara asked breathlessly, though finding her voice at last. Her eyes never left Michael's right upper leg. Like hypnotized, she stared at ever magnifying stain of blood.

_Shit!_

He tried to dress the gash as best as he could, but obviously, it was not enough. "That's just a cut. It's not that deep, but it just keeps bleeding."

"You need to tightly tie the bandage _above_ the gash." Sara said in the quietest of voices, her eyes glassy and unfocused like she was in some kind of a trance. Finally, she managed to bring her eyes up to meet Michaels; her shock, disbelief and sorrow reflected in her orbs of hazel.

"Fuck! I though you said you would be safe from now on and not be a freaking target!" Roared Lincoln angrily, though worry was all too evident in his features. Michael sighed. _What was he supposed to tell them? This was a prison without guards, after all._

"How do you feel? Any dizziness? Nausea? Headache? Dull pain?" Sara spoke, matter of factly, though her voice was trembling slightly. Michael looked at her, mulling over her question.

"No. I don't think there's any damage to my ribs or anything else, and nothing's broken; just bruised." He said earnestly and saw her nod, a sigh of short-lived relief reflecting in her eyes. She raised her arms and laid them on her hips, taking a few deep breaths to calm down her nerves. She tried hard not to overreact, to assess the situation as objectively as her doctor-self could, but she simply couldn't detach the professional from her private self. Her head spun suddenly and she turned away, momentarily squinting into the burning sun.

"I swear I would kill those fuckers if I had the chance." Growled Lincoln through gritted teeth, his reaction instinctive, the older brother in him always wanting to shield and protect his little sibling.

"So what now?" Asked Sara in the most calm voice she could muster. "Are they going to continue to beat you up like this until the kill you or what?" Her words might sound harsh, but her voice was trembling, her inner anger not directed at Michael rather than the men who caused him harm.

"I don't think they'll attack me anymore. There are now two guys of Lechero's looking after me." There was no happiness nor satisfaction contained in Michael's voice.

"Good." Said Lincoln, while Michael tried hard to escape Sara's piercing look. "You should put a wet cloth at that." She said quietly, gesturing at his swollen eye and face.

"I will." He said, but still avoided to look directly at her. There was silence, all the relaxed mood from their previous visits wiped out at once.

"You sure they won't attack you again?" Lincoln asked anew, wanting to hear a confirmation before he could move on.

"Yes." Michael said, his throat burning to tell the rest of the truth, but he simply couldn't. He seized Sara up with eyes full of utmost despair that matched his momentary feeling of being lost and lonely perfectly. All of a sudden he simply wanted to be selfish and reckless for once; he wanted to be the one to complain and whine and be comforted in return. But when she didn't notice his look as she was still watching his bleeding leg with a look of care and concern, he was almost glad he didn't go that particular road. Michael watched her closely, allowing himself a moment of just the sight of her. Her hair even shinier than he remembered from the day before, her features soft and delicate, her hazel eyes carefully studying and assessing the possible damage to his flesh.

His heart swelled achingly causing him to look away to be able to take a breath again. Life was not fair to him, showing him _this_ prospect, while the weight in his right pocket reminded him of something that let him believe he might not live to see a day outside these damned walls. His chest constricted painfully and he wished he could simply be, for once, weak. His dark thoughts didn't last for too long as he knew there was no time. '_They are safe and whole and free, something you didn't dare to dream just a mere weeks ago.'_ His hand reaching into his left pocket and ignoring the growing weight in his right one, Michael slowly and carefully withdrew a small red and green paper object, handing it to a startled Sara through the fence.

"I believe I owe you this."

She blinked once, then twice. The rose looked as new as the day he had given it to her; although she had no idea how on earth he'd accomplish that.

"Thank you." She said with the first hint of a smile that day and his chest constricted once again, that invisible vice painfully squeezing more air out of his lungs after she laid her hand on the fence gently squeezing his, her thumb stroking his fingers delicately. He had to finish it here and now, while he still had the strength.

"Listen Sara. Would you mind leaving me and Lincoln to talk in private today? There is something important I need to tell him." '_Something I don't have the guts to tell you.' _He was almost sickened by his cowardice.

She looked startled, the faintest shadow of doubt and worry clouding the beautiful hazel of her eyes, but then she slowly nodded, although maybe a little disappointed at the lack of time the two of them would be spending together today. But if what it was Michael wished to share with his brother, but not her did bother her, she didn't let it on. Instead, she caressed his fingers through the fence once more before uttering a silent _'I love you'_ and walking quickly away; too much in her own thoughts to catch a sight of a very confused Lincoln and a too much aching expression on Michael's face.

He didn't say a word, his eyes glued to Sara's back, keeping quiet and enjoying the sight of her to the very end until the door at the far end of the enclosure finally closed behind her. The next time he would see her might be their very last before either his release or death, and he knew it would probably be a most desperate and painful encounter. He shook his head slightly, focusing his eyes on his brother instead, wishing his voice to sound more businesslike but knowing the lump in his throat probably betrayed him miserably.

Instead of answering the silent questions reflected in Lincoln's confused eyes, he slid his hand inside his right trouser pocket; at last extracting an object Lincoln had never before seen in his life. To Lincoln, it appeared to be two chicken legs bound together by a string.

"You know what this is Linc?" He asked his brother, already expecting the slight headshake he would receive. "I got this today, from one of the guys who beat me up."

"What does it mean?" Asked Lincoln slowly, his expression still confused, but all the same careful and suspicious.

"It's a challenge to a fight." Said Michael indifferently.

"Which you are going to decline politely, I hope."

"I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"It's not up to me. In fact, it's non-negotiable. If I refuse to fight, they'll make me. I've seen fights like these before. The one's who refuse get dragged out by force." While talking, the chicken feet were dangling in the air between Michael and Lincoln, as if mocking the two brothers.

"How do these fights end?" Asked Lincoln directly and Michael noticed his brothers mind was already jumping to the right conclusions.

"Death."

There was a soft gasp followed by shocked silence that kept stretching between them, Lincoln's expression clearly stating a deep denial.

"That's a joke, right?" Lincoln asked at last, but Michael merely looked him in the eye and Lincoln knew it was indeed not a joke. It all started to click into place in Lincolns head. _That's why he's been so quiet, that's why he didn't acknowledge the protection he would receive from now on, that's why he send Sara away…Oh God, Sara…_

"That's why you sent Sara away? To tell me in private you were going to have to fight to the death tomorrow?" asked Lincoln with narrowed eyes, his voice exposing a slight anger.

"A fight I most probably won't survive." added Michael, the calm of his voice surprising even himself. Lincoln could only let out a shocked breath, his voice caught in his throat. With his mouth slightly agape, his mind furiously trying to process this news.

"Hell, what the fuck am I supposed to tell Sara? What the fuck am I supposed to _do_?" asked Lincoln half-shouting, his voice suddenly panicky, his eyes betraying his brain finally accepting the inconvenient truth. "What can I do Michael?" He almost pleaded. "I will do _anything _to help, just name it."

"You can't. Not from the outside, that is." Michael said, shaking his head with a sad smile, his calm and resigned sigh infuriating Lincoln all of a sudden.

"You expect me to sit still while your innocent ass is on line here?!" shouted Lincoln angrily.

"It's the hardest thing to do, I know." Answered Michael almost soothingly, knowing exactly how Lincoln must be feeling right now. He had been down that particular road before.

"No Michael, cut that crap and tell me what to do! And don't you dare to just give up like this!"

"I am _not_ giving up Linc, I promise you that much." barked Michael in return, his answer coming sharper than intended. "There is too much at stake for me to give up." He looked at Lincoln and thought of Sara and LJ. Lincoln began breathing deeply in an obvious attempt to calm down enough to be able to start thinking logically.

"What's your plan?" He asked finally, his eyes pushed closed.

"I don't have any so far. The guy is big. Fought four times so far and never lost. I don't stand a chance."

"So you'll just have to find a way not to have to fight. What about that Lieching bloke? He is the boss here, right? Can't he cancel the fight for you?"

"Lechero. No. There is nothing he can do."

"When's this fight supposed to take place?"

"Tomorrow evening."

"Fuck. That makes only one day to do something about your stay in here…" Started Lincoln but Michael cut through. He couldn't allow himself to cling to straws like this. Straws; like for example; that the embassy would do something about his case, possibly arranging an earlier release for him; the chances were too slim. He had to find another way, but in order to do that, he needed to keep a cool head and not think about what may happen in case he should fail. To achieve that however, some things had to be handled first, said beforehand. _Just in case_.

"Either way, the fight shall take place later afternoon so I'll be able to make it to tomorrow's visitation. So even in the case I will be_ forced _to fight and it goes wrong, I'll still be able to see you and Sara…"

"SHUT UP MICHAEL!" Roared Lincoln unexpectedly, interrupting Michael's somehow cool and depersonalized speech. "We are not discussing goodbyes! We have to focus on how to stop the fight tomorrow, now."

"We can't just _stop_ the fight." Michael interjected.

"There must be a way…"

"There is not."

"…there _must_ be a way!"

"Don't you think I haven't thought this through Linc?" It was now Michael who raised his voice, even if so slightly. "There is _no_ other way to stop the fight."

"Then there's only one way for you to get out of this unscathed. You have to kill that guy first; possibly in his sleep." Said Lincoln, finally finding the solution he was looking for. The cool and calm resolution with which he said it shocked both of them. There was a deadly silence.

"I thought about that too." confessed Michael bitterly, his voice shaking slightly just at the very thought of committing a deed as dark as they were discussing. "And I can't do it Linc. I simply can't." He said in a quiet voice, his eyes averted to the dirty ground. "If I did something like that there would be no turning back. I would become something I would loath. And I could never look into yours, or LJ's, or Sara's eyes ever again." The last words were uttered quietly and Lincoln knew his brother was right. After a while, Michael cleared his throat. "I don't have any solution yet Lincoln, but I will do anything to find one. We fought too hard and lost too much for all to end like this."

"I'll go to the embassy first thing in the morning." Said Lincoln determinedly, and Michael merely nodded, knowing this was the only way his brother could help; no matter how slim the chances were.

"What about Sara?" asked Lincoln, his voice tight with emotion. Michael knew they were about to breach their last and most delicate subject. "Did you plan to tell her at all? Or did you simply plan for _me_ to tell her? Because I think that's a very stupid and bad idea. And it's not fair either, Michael. Not to her, nor to me." Lincoln said in a voice slightly accusing.

"I know." whispered Michael averting his gaze onto the dusty ground, his deliberation and calm gone for good at last. "I simply…couldn't. I know it's not fair. I didn't think I could handle it. I am sorry."

"Don't be." replied Lincoln with a deep sigh, running his hand over his cropped scalp in frustration. "But tell me, how am I supposed to tell her." He added softly, genuinely terrified at the thought of this task. Michael only shook his head in despair. "I don't know."

Lincoln nodded. _Great._ "Nevermind. I'll come up with something. Just…" he sighed anew, frustration as well as fear evident in his voice. "…just…keep it together…and try to find a way out of this fight, alright?" He finished gently, offering his nodding brother a supporting look.

"I need you to do something else for me Linc. I know I made a lot of demands lately, but it's important to me."

"Shoot."

"Promise me that whatever happens tomorrow, you will go on. No guilt, no regret." Lincoln tried to silence him by calling his name, but Michael didn't let his brother stop him. "Promise me you will take Sara and return to the States with her, to LJ."

"Stop it Michael!" Warned Lincoln raising a finger to Michael's direction, but he didn't.

"Promise me you'll do anything to help her move on, help her to deal with what happened."

"That's not my job nor place and you know it!" shouted Lincoln, finally able to silence Michael. "Stop pretending you can be replaced. You can't! As well as you simply can't leave and make me take care of your matters. This is _not_ what Sara needs. She doesn't need my shoulder to cry on, she needs yours! So you better stop right there, I am not discussing this with you, alright?!" Lincoln was panting, eyeing his brother angrily. Michael was looking at his brother, then gave in at last.

"I know I'm getting distracted. This is _not_ what I should be focusing on. I am trying to be rational, but all I see when I close my eyes is her Linc. I know it sounds lame and sappy, but I can't stop thinking about what we could have together; and what will happen to her if we don't." Michael's voice was breaking as he was trying to explain to his brother the unexplainable; the turmoil of the variety of feelings he had for this woman. "She lost everything and everyone because of me Linc. I made so many promises to her, _so many_, and I am afraid I won't be able to fulfill a single one."

Lincoln was sorry for his brother. He knew that the way Michael was, he couldn't narrow matters into two categories; the most important task and the 'remaining' pieces. He could never simply choose one and shut the rest out and so was fighting the war with many groups of armies simultaneously, his mind always trying to process more stimuli than any 'normal' brain could handle. This was what made him as brilliant as he was. However, it were times like these when his bright mind and heart were rather an obstacle than help, racing his brain into overdrive.

"Listen Michael. I know that things haven't been fair to me, you, LJ or Sara. And I know how much you want to make up for all the heartache and pain she suffered, but right now, you have to focus on how you are going to walk out of this fight. Otherwise, there will be no making up. I promise I will take care of her the best I can if that's what you're concerned about. But right now, you have other problems. Don't you think Sara would agree too?" Michael knew his brother was right but he couldn't bring himself to nod. "Listen. I am going back to the car and I'm going to tell her what you just told me. First thing in the morning, we will go to the embassy and try to persuade the Panamian government to let you out earlier. In the meanwhile, you'll just think of a back-up plan, alright?" Michael nodded.

"Hey…" Lincoln said gently and his uncharacteristic tone made Michael look up. "…we will make this. Just have a little faith." Something in Michael's eyes sparkled and he gave a little smile. "I better go now. Sara must already be out of her mind." Uttered Lincoln and Michael nodded solemnly.

"Tomorrow then. Watch your back until then, alright?" Again, Lincoln received a small nod. With a heavy heart, Lincoln turned and walked away, a sinking feeling deep in his stomach. And once again, he had to leave his brother in the care of strangers, once again facing dangers of unknown extent, and again, all alone.

TBC

_AN – Ok, so I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on this people. :) Until the next time then._

7


	8. Call Waiting

**Fence talks - Chapter 8 – ****Call Waiting**

Michael's fingers were digging into the fence, his thumbs nervously stroking the thin metal lines unconsciously. His eyes fixed upon the very opposite end of the enclosure, as he waited for the two people who came to visit him every day since he landed here. Michael subconsciously shifted his weight to his left foot as the pain from yesterday in his right upper leg grew; pain he would not show.

There was a creaking sound in the distance and Michael squinted against the hot sun, his eyes fixed upon the old rusty gate. To a sinking feeling to his stomach; it revealed only one person instead of the two he was hoping for. He had no doubts which one it was; the bulky frame and cropped head could belong to no one else but his brother. Still Michael waited. Maybe she was only lagging behind, maybe the door would open any second now to reveal her figure too, scared or angry or nervous or all combined, but her still.

The prospect of this, however; started to fade as Lincoln came closer while the door stayed just as closed still. And with every step Lincoln made, more of Michaels hopes disappeared. Before his brother even reached the fence, he started talking. "It's not what you think. She wanted to come but she couldn't." Two more steps and Lincoln stood at the fence; his face now clear to see was wearing an unreadable expression.

"Why not?" Michael not even tried to conceal the despair in his voice; all too eager to get an answer. His fingers were subconsciously digging into the fence once again, this time accompanied a sudden rush of hopelessness with it.

"She's at the embassy. We were there since early morning and curiously enough, they promised to look at your file; said they would talk to the government officials in charge of Sona. They were still reviewing your case when it was time to leave for visitations and somebody had to stay. I wanted to stay myself but Sara insisted I came. Said I was family."

"She's family too." interrupted Michael quietly, his statement causing Lincoln to smirk. "That's what I told her. But she insisted."

Both Brothers paused, as Michael studied the floor working up the courage to ask his next question.

"How did she take the news yesterday?" asked Michael his eyes rising to meet his brothers, his look piercing Lincoln's for the truth. He wanted, _needed,_ to know how she reacted to such shocking news and today, they didn't have the luxury to circle and sugarcoat realities. His older brother only sighed. "To be honest Michael, I don't know."

"What is that supposed to mean?" came a quick rash answer, but there was a soft exasperation coating Michael's voice. Lincoln sighed anew. Knowing his brother, his answer would better be eloquent and detailed.

"I told her as soon as I got into the car. She listened carefully but didn't say a word. I've tried to talk to her about this but she merely shrugged me off. She'll only talk about trying to get you out through the embassy today. When we arrived at the apartment she shut herself into her room and I heard her talking to somebody over the phone; I think she was calling the people back in US who were already helping us to get you out in the first place and I've heard her shouting into the phone, but I didn't want to eavesdrop. After that, she didn't come out anymore until this morning. You could almost say she looked absolutely normal, as if nothing happened. But she was cold and distant the whole time." Michael gulped; his throat feeling like sandpaper. He knew what her behavior meant and he didn't like it one bit. "When it was time for one of us to come here, she only said I shall go; brushing off any attempt to change her mind." Lincoln finished with a somewhat guilty expression.

"I'm glad you came." Said Michael and it was the truth. Although he would prefer if both of them could be here, he was glad he for his brothers company. But he didn't believe for a second the embassy could do anything about his release; at least not on such short notice. And the thought that this useless action could cost him his last encounter with Sara infuriated, as well as almost killed him.

"There's something else." Said Lincoln gruffly, intentionally avoiding the topic of plan B, afraid to hear what may possibly be the first time in his life, that Michael hadn't come up with anything. "LJ, Jane and some of her people are coming down here tomorrow. We are moving to a safe house."

Michael's head snapped up from his contemplation in a second, the wheels in his head already in motion. "Why? What's wrong?"

Lincoln wished he didn't have to share this particular piece of information with his brother right now, but he knew Michael needed to know. "Jane said they caught some Company intel. They are not sure how reliable it is, but it was about you." Lincoln instinctively lowered his voice although there was no need to speak quieter, they were alone.

"It seems the Company has a use for you in here. There's supposedly a guy in Sona they would like to get their hands on. A guy _you_ might be able to get your hands on and break out." said Lincoln with a finality that left no room for doubt, already seeing the change in Michael's eyes.

"No, no no! No way. I can't do it again Linc…" his eyes widening with disbelief, Michael started to shake his head in panic. His brother's distress caused Lincoln to grab the fence so hard it caused the metal wire to clink as it shook violently under Lincoln's strain. He didn't plan on such rash action but Lincoln was glad to see the noise caught Michael's attention.

"Listen Michael, nothing like that is going to happen. That's why Jane is coming down with LJ. Just to be sure; to have everything covered. Not to give them any chance to be the first to act."

Lincoln bit his tongue but it was already too late. He saw the realization dawn on Michael with the force of a brick wall. "No." Was the only thing he was able to say, his eyes shining with pure horror.

"I won't let anything happen to them, I swear!" hastened Lincoln, already rebuking himself for mentioning this topic at all. It only added more worry to an already distressed Michael.

"Please Michael, forget that right now and let _me_ take care of this particular matter. There are other problems pressing on you in the moment." Michael grabbed and leaned into the fence once more, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily, digesting the information he just received, but when he finally looked up, his eyes were clear and focused once more.

"Just be cautious, alright? I trust you with this, Linc." He said earnestly and Lincoln felt his chest expanding. He almost winced knowing it was time to pop the question he was so hesitant to ask.

"Listen Mike, did you come up with a pl…" He was interrupted by the shrilling sound of a phone ringing. "Damn…" cursed Lincoln under his breath, retrieving a cell phone from his pocket and glancing at the callers ID.

"It's Sara." He said and Michael's breath caught in his throat. Lincoln flipped the phone open but before listening to a single word from the other side of the line informed Sara he was putting the call on loud speaker. He pushed a button and suddenly there was a cracking sound, the air filling with quiet buzzing noises of what was probably distant traffic. Without even realizing it, both brothers held their breath in unison, each for a different reason though.

"Sara, you there? We're listening." Lincoln said after a moment of silence, the other line still being quiet. There was a deep shaky outlet of breath at the other side then Sara's choked voice rang through the hot air.

"We lost the appeal." There was another short pause. While Sara seemed to be composing herself, her all too familiar words were ringing in Michael's ears. Lincolns head sunk.

"They say nothing can be done about the original release date. Panamian officials said they've already done too much for us." She finally concluded and there was now a clear defeat in her breaking voice. She didn't continue, obviously expecting for one of the brothers to say something in return. Lincoln shot a worried look at Michael, who was staring through the fence as if hypnotized at the phone in Lincoln's hands, but he didn't say a word.

"We heard you." said Lincoln, realizing Sara still waiting for an answer, or at least an acknowledgment.

"I am so sorry…" She said in a voice so quiet it was almost quieter than the distant honking of the cars. _'Don't be.'_ was the thing Michael wished to say, but couldn't. His throat tightly closed, the lump that had formed just moments ago almost choking him. She was there; just on the other end of that god-damned phone saying she was sorry, and the only thing he wanted was to tell her she didn't need to be, that she's already done too much; yet he couldn't. He only stared at the phone, the only, and maybe the very last connection he would ever have with her.

"Michael?" her voice was uneasy and scared. There was silence; then the answer finally came, but it was not Michael who replied. "He's listening." Lincoln said loudly, eyeing Michael with a worried look. He could see it in his brother's eyes; calm on the outside, breaking on the inside.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't be there today." She continued softly with an unsteady sigh, her voice teary and unstable. Again there was silence. Although Michael's head screamed the words, his lips barely moved, _shook_ more than spoke, but no sounds left his mouth. Lincoln didn't know what to do nor to say either. All of a sudden, he wished he had forced Sara to come today instead on him.

"I…I…" She obviously struggled with words. _There was no right thing to say, was there?_ As if she just realized this fact, she waited for another few seconds still hoping for a sound from Michael. Yet nothing came, although Lincoln was begging his brother with his eyes to utter at least a single word. Michael couldn't do anything else but to stare at the phone in Lincoln's hand as if it was a lifeline, but he couldn't speak, he was simply paralyzed.

There was another shaky breath on the other side of the line. "…I …I'm afraid I have to go." Sara uttered into the silence. She seemed to be struggling with something else to say but obviously chose against it, leaving Michael some more time to say something, _anything_, to her in return, but it never came and then the line was dead.

Michael's eyes were still firmly fixed upon the phone, the last 'space' she had been in and a single tear rolled down one of his cheeks. Then, as if waking from a particularly heavy dream, Michael finally rose to his full height, his eyes leaving the phone, looking at Lincoln with a fierce resolution that took even Lincoln by surprise.

"I have a plan." He said in a voice firm and stable; an utter contrast to the state Lincoln knew his brother had been just in a mere few seconds before. It was as if Michael returned from a completely different universe. However; Lincoln didn't waste any more time with his thoughts.

"Tell me."

"It's not much, but it will have to do." Lincoln's glance encouraging him, Michael continued. "While I've been figuring out the water pipe problem, I've discovered a maze of old tunnels running under this place. They don't lead anywhere; but I'm pretty sure I was the first one to discover them. I'll go into the tunnels right before the fight while everybody will be waiting outside, so that no one has the chance to see where I am going. I'll wait and crawl out only when I hear the sound of the sirens Monday morning while everybody else will be lined up at the courtyard. It should be a pretty solid plan, except for only one problem. I'm pretty sure a hunt will start right after I disappear and a bounty most likely set at my head, so there will be quite a few people here who will be ready to do anything to get their hands on me."

"You better hide really well then." Lincoln said matter of factly and Michael nodded, hiding a smirk at his brothers simple _solution_.

"Let's hope I won't be coming to surface until Monday and on my own terms." The brothers eyed each other for a moment.

"What about water and food?" Asked Lincoln and Michael grimaced.

"Well, I'll take a bottle or two of water with me, but that's it. I'll have to do without food."

Lincoln eyed him in discontent, but knew there wasn't much that could be done about this inconvenient fact.

"It's a good plan." Michael said, but if he was reassuring his brother or himself it stayed unknown. He drew and unsteady breath. "In case it didn't work out…"

"…it will…"

"… and they found me…they carry out the dead each morning…"

"…under which you _won't_ be …"

"…so you will need to come each morning and check." Michael ended, refusing to let Lincoln stop him to say what needed to be said. "Obviously, I won't be able to make it to any visitation until then, so this will be our last meeting..."

"…before we see each other again on the outside." Added Lincoln and it made Michael to give a little smile. "Since when are _you_ the optimist here?"

"Since my brother told me to have a little faith while I was on death row I guess." Lincoln shrugged and couldn't help a small smile escaping his lips as well.

"Smart man your brother." returned Michael amusedly.

"I use to think so." Replied Lincoln with an obvious amount of pride in his voice and it made Michael's chest tighten.

They eyed each other for a moment, then Michael put his hand under his shirt and retrieved a small ring hanging from a string, stroking the little object almost affectionately one last time before making a movement to hand it over to Lincoln through the fence. "I want you to return this to Sara." He said, but Lincoln was merely looking at the ring intently, as if suddenly remembering something. Without even stretching out his hand to take it, he shook his head.

"I can't. Sara warned me you would probably want to do that and I promised her I wouldn't take it from you." Lincoln mumbled a bit awkwardly, and maybe if the situation wasn't as grave, he would have smiled at Sara's precise foresight. There was a look of annoyed desperation on Michael's face. "_Please_, Lincoln. She might mean it now, but she could regret it later."

"I mean it Michael. She wants you to have that ring. And you surely don't want me to break a promise I gave her." Said Lincoln trying to sound reasonably and with a big sigh of relief saw Michael hesitate before he returned the ring under his shirt once again at last.

"Thank you." Michael uttered quietly. He didn't really know what he was thanking for, but it felt like the right thing to say.

"You're welcome."

They stayed like that for a while, neither one knowing exactly what to say. Saying goodbyes was not an option, but it felt wrong to leave just like that.

"Anything special you want to pass on to a certain someone?" Asked Lincoln, eyeing his brother carefully, watching the deep frown on Michael's forehead indicating he was deep in his thoughts.

"No." He said at last. "No goodbyes, no promises, no gloomy messages from the beyond this time. I won't promise her I will make it. I simply just _will be_ _there_ on Monday." Michael said in a voice that didn't leave any room for discussion and something in Lincoln's chest tightened. "Anything else you want me to do?"

"You know what I want you to do." uttered Michael in a soft voice with his eyes averted, momentarily ashamed he was double-checking with his brother.

"I _will_ keep the promise I gave you yesterday, if that's your concern. You don't have to doubt that."

"I don't." came an instant answer and Michael's glance was up once again, his eyes so intense on Lincoln's as if wanting to burn the honesty of his answer right into his brother's mind.

"Say hi to LJ from me, will you?"

"I will."

"About the Company…"

"They won't get _any_ chance to pull any fucking tricks on us, I can promise you that much." said Lincoln, his temper rising at the mere thought of the people who caused them all so much grief.

Michael's eyes were once again cast downward, his teeth chewing at his bottom lip. "I know. If anything happened to them…"

"…would happen only over my dead body." roared Lincoln.

"I hope it won't come to that." said Michael with a hint of a smile, while Lincoln actually grinned. "You're talking to _Linc the Sink_, remember?" There was a short full smile gracing Michael's lips, but it was gone instantly and it left Lincoln wondering how very different and _better_ his younger brother looked when he was smiling.

"Thanks Linc. For everything." Michael's voice was not more over a whisper, the graveness of their circumstances crashing down on both brothers once again.

"No Michael, thank _you._" answered Lincoln resonantly, a strong contrast to Michael's quiet statement.

"Alright then. See you on the other side." were Michaels final words before he abruptly turned abruptly taking up a quick pace as he was walking back into Sona, back into hell.

TBC

_OK ok, I know, many of you are horrified that I didn't let Sara meet Michael for what may be their last encounter. But you know how life sucks at times and you can't always get what you __want, as Sara and Michael unfortunately already know. So please, don't shoot me! ducks under her table_

_And again, it's another cliffie, but trust me, it's necessary. The next chapter will be something I am actually looking really forward to writing, personally, so naturally, as the irony often is, I hope it won't end up being the most difficult stuff I've ever written, lol. Anyway, I will be that rude to ask for your thoughts openly. :) I am done pretending I don't care about feedback. Actually, I do very much. :) So let me know whatcha think. ;)_


	9. Glass of Scotch

_Soo...here is__ the next chapter of Fence Talks. It's a bit short, but I had to cut it due to the events of next chapter, that's by the way, already almost done and I am quite satisfied with it, because THAT will be the chapter I've been looking for to writing and I think I made it justice, though hope it will strike the chord with you. Anyway, that's a discussion for another time….in the meanwhile, read this one and enjoy and if you will have at least a bit time and mood, let me know what you think. :)_

**Again, great thanks to lssilence for the great betta. :) **

**Fence talks Cha****pter 9 – Glass of Scotch**

It was late when Lincoln pushed open the door to the small apartment. He didn't return home right after he left Sona; knowing only too well who would be waiting there and what uncomfortable task lay ahead of him. So instead, he took a rather long walk through the darker corners of Panama City; somberly contemplating the options and chances his little brother had to hide in a place like Sona. By the time he reached the apartment door, it was already getting dark.

The entrance room seemed empty; as well as the rest of the apartment. There were no lights on, which was kind of odd considering the level of fading light penetrating through the almost closed blinds of the small place. A feeling of uncertainty started to rise in Lincoln's chest.

"Sara?" He called into the main room, but he got no answer. This caused his fear only to grow.

"Sara?!" He called again; a bit louder this time; his hand frantically groping the wall in the dark trying to find the light switch. He finally found it and the room was immediately bathed in warm light. His eyes were seeking her out in this small space quite desperately, his breath catching in his throat momentarily as he finally spotted the back of her red-hair head hovering over the back of the couch. She didn't turn nor acknowledge Lincoln's presence at all. She merely sat there on the couch; staring blindly in front of her at something on the table he couldn't quite see.

"There you are! You scared me. Why are you sitting here in the dark?" No answer came and Lincoln quickly circled the sofa in the small space to be able to see her face.

"Sara? Hey…" he called softly and it was only then when he saw the large bottle of scotch sitting on the table just in front of her; just within her reach. The lid was off and a little of the dark liquid already poured in a big glass that lay just next to the bottle. Lincoln's didn't need to be a genius to understand, but he only pursed his lips tight and didn't say a word. He crossed the remaining space and sat down next to her, cursing himself for being so selfish and not coming home earlier.

"I bought this on my way home from the embassy and its been sitting here like this since then. I even had the glass in my hand for at least four times." Her words, so strongly resonating in the silence, startled him. She was talking to him but her eyes never left the bottle, her look glassy and unfocused. Lincoln took a moment to study her. Her cheeks were clearly stained with tears that must have dried hours ago.

"But you didn't drink." He said at last; it was rather a statement than a question.

"No." There was no pride in her voice.

"Well," Lincoln took a deep breath. "…that definitely stands for something."

"Does it?" Sara replied, her lips twitching upwards in a wry smile, her eyes never leaving the paper label of the bottle.

"Yeah. It means you still haven't given up on him. You are still hoping that he will be just fine and back with us on Monday. Otherwise you wouldn't have given a fucking damn and drank all of that bottle hours ago." Said Lincoln matter-of-factly and the brutal honesty in his voice seemed to surprise them both. She finally withdrew from the bottle to look at him in silent question.

"You almost sound like an expert." Sara finally responded, unable to stop the slight trace of sarcasm entering her voice.

"You are not the only one who has a history of addiction." Said Lincoln gruffly and saw that Sara looked at him, truly _looked at him_, for the first time that day. Their eyes met for the shortest of moments before Lincoln averted his gaze. He was not ready yet to share this private part of him with her, but he knew he owed her this one. It was, after all, him who started to push this conversation.

"Before I landed in Fox River, I was in a load of shit. Gambling, drugs," he looked at the bottle on the table, "alcohol. I've neglected my son, I've made Michael ashamed of me…well, let's say there was not much to be proud of." He could see his words hit her hard. This was apparently not the side of him Michael told her about. "I guess my brother didn't tell you any of these things about me; the one who he so desperately wanted to break out, did he?" She only shook her head and Lincoln smirked with a snort.

"Well, if you look at this from a brighter side, the one thing Fox River ever gave me was my sobriety. Though involuntarily, I finally had the chance to stop for a moment and rethink my life. Of course, at that time, I didn't think it would come to much use. All the things I would want to make differently, I couldn't anymore and I knew I would die with the excruciating knowledge never to know how that other Lincoln could be. But then Michael came along and gave me a chance. A chance I sure as hell won't waste this time."

He didn't even know how these words describing his most intimate thoughts and feelings left his mouth so easily, but they did. Something about this woman sitting next to him made him say them without the fear of being judged or scorned at. On the contrary. She simply looked at him with warm dark eyes, her hand outstretched and resting on top of his own covering his thigh. Slowly, it all started to make sense to Lincoln. The aura of understanding and the feelings of security and calm Sara Tancredi was radiating were almost too overwhelming; and if he had any doubts before, it was now clear to Lincoln what exactly it was that attracted a brilliant but insecure person like his brother to this special person. It was not only a question of attraction or chemistry or infatuation or guilt; it must have been so much more of something else, something he only just scratched the surface of.

"He is a good man." said Sara, her voice snapping Lincoln into reality once again, and he could only nod.

"Did he…I mean, was he…" Her eyes averted from him, she blurted out what was on her mind in one quick strand. "…was he angry I wasn't there today? Did he think I didn't come because I was angry with _him_ for not telling me yesterday?" Her voice was breathless and anxious and Lincoln knew his answer needed to be given without leaving any trace of doubt.

"Neither." He said at last. "He was disappointed he wouldn't get to see you, but he understood." Lincoln hesitated for a second about what he was going to say next, if he wouldn't cross some invisible line, but then decided to continue. "I think he didn't talk on the phone with you because he was too distraught and nervous to do that. Certainly _not_ because he didn't want to." Then he drew a last breath, preparing himself for a somewhat embarrassing statement he was about to add. "He loves you too much for that."

His declaration, so uncharacteristic for his rough self, had a more heavy impact on Sara than he anticipated. She bend over in her spot as of being in pain and brought her arms around to hug her own figure. She squeezed her eyes shut as sudden tears started to roll down her face.

Lincoln didn't expect this reaction and didn't really know what to do; so he clumsily shifted in his spot on the couch and hugged her small figure; bringing her face to rest against his chest. She heaved a few elaborate sobs, but then continued to weep quietly. He gave her some time to find her composure again, then he let go of her and raised to his feet; taking the bottle as well as the half-full glass of Scotch with him as he walked over to the kitchen sink.

"On times like this, when the temptation is particularly strong, I found out that stuff like this is not the best idea to keep around." With that, he poured the contents of the bottle as well as the glass into the sink and threw the bottle away.

A quiet '_thank you_' came from the living room. "You're welcome." Lincoln turned his back to the kitchen counter, leaning against it heavily. He stayed there with his arms crossed across his chest, thinking about everything. He still felt a little awkward and so stayed in the safety of the dark kitchen; where he had a clear view on Sara. He watched as she drew a few unsteady breaths, then her vision cleared once again and she raised her head to him with an expectant look.

"What's his plan then?" Her voice was businesslike again and Lincolns respect for her started to grow.

"Michael won't fight." There was huge relief clearly visible on Sara's face, but she didn't interrupt. "He said he found a system of old tunnels underneath Sona that didn't lead anywhere; but where he could stay and hide until Monday, so the other prisoners can't find him and force him to fight. He will come out only when he hears the sirens on Monday morning knowing everybody else will be lined up on the courtyard." Sara nodded slowly, digesting the information.

"What about water and food?" She asked at last, her mind processing the more practical issues.

"He'll take some water; but there is not a way he can take food for 3 days because the food gets handled out only once a day. But he said he would be ok and I sure as hell believed him."

"Right." Sara said with a sardonic face, her jaw set tight. Then, as if realizing she may have sounded too cynical, she raised one hand in a silent apology. "I'm sorry. I know that it's not up to him."

Lincoln eyed her carefully. "He is going to be fine." He said but didn't get an answer from her. She was merely looking at him, her gaze more penetrating than Lincoln would have liked. "It's Michael Sara. If he can't do it, nobody can."

"That's exactly what I am worried about." She spluttered out before she could think otherwise and her statement caused Lincoln to sigh. "Sara…"

"How are we going to know he's ok?" She asked hastily and Lincoln was again surprised at how calm and composed she could appear; as well as how her mind could quickly catch up. The actual answer to her question was the last thing that came to his mind and his heart sank.

"I…uhm…Michael said that they were carried out… the…the dead, I mean…every day. So we have to… sort of…come and check every morning." He could see the blood drain from her face, her eyes averted and staring into the space where the Scotch bottle used to be as she just merely nodded. She looked up to his face that was partly hidden in the dark once again.

"When are your son and this…_Jane,_ I believe her name is, coming?"

"Their plane lands about noon."

"How many people are coming with them?" _Again, she was too smart._

"Jane, LJ and four of Jane's men."

"Four? She must have taken that information seriously." said Sara. _Damn smart, _Lincoln thought.

"It's just precaution. Not to give the Company any chance to react and attack first in case the intel was genuine." Sara only nodded and it caught Lincoln a bit by surprise she didn't react similarly as his brother to this news. After all, her life could possibly in danger. He eyed her carefully; trying to asses if she didn't realize the realness of the possible thread, or if she simply didn't care.

"When are we moving?" Again, an all too practical question for a person in her situation.

"Right after they arrive tomorrow. We leave in the morning for Sona and are not coming back, so pack all your things you have here." Again, she only nodded absentmindedly.

"Shouldn't take longer than five minutes." Sara said, but there was no regret nor bitterness in her voice. It was simply a statement. "If that's all, I would like to take a shower and go to bed, if that's ok with you." Sara added; suddenly changing back to her cold and distant self, Lincoln noted, and she got up from the couch heading for the door to her room.

"Yeah, sure." Lincoln replied amicably.

Before she reached the door however, she stopped in her tracks, obviously contemplating a question. Then, without turning around to face Lincoln, she asked the question that burned on her tongue since he came back.

"By any chance…was there…did he …leave any message… for me?" Her back was turned to face him and although Lincoln couldn't see her face, something about the way she asked him made it perfectly clear that the answer would matter very much to her.

"No. I am sorry."

"Oh." He could see her shoulders slump a little. It was a disappointed interjection, but Sara seemed to recover quickly from it. There was a slight pause.

"It's ok. Never mind."

She quickly reached the door and disappeared behind it with a quiet thud. Lincoln stood there; staring at her door and couldn't help the feeling of utter helplessness grasping him. He thought of Michael and how desperate he looked during Sara's earlier call that day, then thought of Sara's tear stained face when he came home this evening. _Why the fuck did it have to be so complicated?_ Lincoln turned around and found himself gazing into the sink at the now empty glass. He felt a sudden urge to grab it and smash in against the wall, but then he simply turned the water tap on and washed it, placing it again onto the shelf where in belonged. A clean start. That's what these two people deserved. God knew he would do anything to help them get there.

TBC

_AN - So what do you think?_


	10. Safe House

So here is the new chapter of Fence Talks. I know that it's a rather quick update, but I had some spare time. :) Hope you won't mind. ;) I've been really enjoying writing it and hope you guys like it, because for some reason, I developed a soft spot for this chapter.

Anyway, have fun reading!

Again, thank you for the beta to elle aka **lssilence**. :)

**Chapter 10 – Safe House **

_She was walking the empty filthy corridors, her doctor bag h__anging over her shoulder. Her pace was steady and quick, businesslike. She has been called to see a hurt prisoner; or so officer Bellick told her with a smirk plastered all over his face in the Sick Bay not more than 10 minutes ago._

_She didn't meet anybody on her way. In fact, she didn't recall ever being in this place before, yet she knew where to go. The concrete walls were literally glowing; bathed in the setting sun. The floor was filthy and full of dirty rags, empty needles and broken glass laying amongst other disgusting things she didn't even start to analyze. _

_The air was hot and the distinct smell of urine, blood, grime__, sweat and decomposition all mixing together made her gag a few times. The scrum of voices was growing louder and she knew she must be close now. There was a passage at the end of the hallway and she knew she had to pass before she could reach her destination. _

_She could hear her own breath pant, her heart frantically pumping in her ears. Desperately clutching the strap of her medical bag, she could feel a little stream of cold sweat and dread running down her spine. She didn't hesitate or contemplate turning around and leaving for a second, however. She was a prison doctor and this was her job._

_Just as she reached the passageway__, she noticed an older man leaning against the wall. He didn't scare her because she already knew him, and just as she was passing him on her way, Charles Westmoreland shook his head sadly; uttering a soft: "I am sorry, Doc." She didn't know why but she quickened her pace, her heart thumping impossibly quickly in her chest, the heavy smell making her head spin momentarily._

_The shouts and crie__s grew louder with every step she made and not long after she was standing at a courtyard full of the most dangerous prisoners one could imagine, but she knew they would not harm her; they were not here because of her. The large crowd fell silent as she stepped onto the hot sun, moving and shifting so she could pass to see the patient, who appeared to be lying on the dirty ground. Two more steps and her heart died._

_Michael was laying __down still but he was not hurt. He was dead. With his limbs sprawled all over the place; he looked almost grotesque. She could feel her breath catch in her throat as the ground shifted from beneath her feet. The prisoners were now gone, the courtyard left empty. There was no one but her and…_him_. She could feel her legs sink to the ground, her eyes taking in the whole macabre picture in front of her. _

_Her whole body started to tremble and shake uncontrollably as her eyes met his face, ashen and…dead. His eyes were open and gazing into the space; hollow and blank. Flies and other vermin already made its way into his open mouth. She could feel her stomach twitch and heave at that sight. There was nothing left of his handsome features; it was not the Michael she knew but rather a cadaver in the first stages of decomposition._

_Although the sight was sickening and heartbreaking at the same time, she couldn't b__ring herself to avert her eyes that shifted lower, unconsciously seeking for the cause of death. She didn't even know when, or how, but she suddenly felt her hands, that wore no gloves, gently stroking his inked chest smeared with an impossible amount of blood; there was simply too much blood. _

_She could feel __her palms stain with the still warm liquid as her trembling fingers finally found one single bullet wound in his chest. It was as if she knew, just realizing only then, what had caused his death. She unglued her gaze from his still form to look down at herself to see her white loose cotton blouse smeared with blood too, the black gun resting menacingly on her tights just at her belly._

_She gave a shocked gasp and looked down at Michael's still form, then back to her own figure, her head starting to shake violently in denial. _

...

Sara woke up with a powerful start, her heart beating so forcefully she thought it might burst out from her chest. A loud buzzing noise filled her ears and for a second she thought she might die right here. She was gasping desperately for breath; painfully aware of her pillow and covers bathed in her own sweat. Only very slowly was she starting to realize she was safe . . . that he wasn't dead; and the fact that she only _dreamed_ the most horrible nightmare, but she still couldn't detach herself from the feelings she had experienced mere moments ago. The dusty courtyard and the putrid corridors still sickened her; and her world was spinning so violently she clutched the sides of her bed scared she might fall down. Then she remembered Michael again…_Oh God Michael…_and she snapped her hands to her eyes at once.

It was dark and she was at their Panamian apartment, but her mind was still clouded by the nightmare she just woke up from and therefore, when her eyes met her palms, she saw the warm red crimson trickling down her forearms. The roar in her ears was almost unbearable, her heart rate overstepping the safe line long ago and all of a sudden the smell of blood and dirt of Sona hit her with such a brutal force she sat up in one quick stride and bent over in her bed vomiting all over the covers. She took a few sharp intakes of breath, clutching at her chest begging her heart to slow down its manic rhythm. Panting, it was as only now she could really take in her surroundings and reality as it was.

The immediate shock and dread were slowly starting to recede; the panic attack already passing it's climax point. Although still fairly confused and terrified, the practical doctor in her already started to command instructions to calm herself down; even if only for the slightest bit.

…_breathe deeply and steadily…take control of yourself again…it was just a dream…a horrible nightmare resulting from the stress and fear and rush and it has nothing to do with the reality…it was just your greatest fright projected in your mind during sleep…Michael is NOT dead…he can't be dead…not yet…not ever…_

She felt the cold sweat run down her back, arms and face; her breathing hard and elaborate, shock sitting deep in her features, desperate tears of fear and despair with uncertainty and pity and guilt pushing themselves into her eyes on their own accord.

All of a sudden she heard a noise and she stilled with a start, her horrible mental state momentarily forgotten with a new dread and horror creeping inside her; her antics must have woken Lincoln. She could hear a rushed shuffling of feet in the next room and her heart stopped in mortification. There was an uncertain knock on the door followed by Lincoln's quiet calling.

"_Sara_…_Sara? I've…I've heard some noises…are you alright?_"

She was sitting on her bed motionless, literally glued to the mattress; praying her silence would chase him away. A few seconds passed and just as she was about to let out a shaky breath of relief, the door slightly opened, Lincoln's head propping inside.

It took him less than a beat to grasp the whole situation, as he more _smelled_ than saw what happened. His hand quickly found the light switch before his mind could even start to process to possible awkwardness and humiliation of such a simple act as lighting a room could bring.

As the light finally suffused the room, her gaze was met with a shocked expression on Lincoln's face and she knew right then and there she never before in her life felt more mortified than in this particular moment. They stared at each other for a beat, neither of them saying a word.

"Would you mind to bring me a glass of water?" Finding her voice as well as her rather witty demand surprised and pleased her all the same. The feeling was gone in a heartbeat however, and as she watched him nod and turn on his spot towards the kitchen; she only wished the earth would open up and devour her. Knowing the chances of that to happen to be very slim, she at least wished to have some privacy to asses the whole situation and get a grip on herself before making another step.

Knowing neither would be granted to her this night; she quickly slipped down from her bed and before Lincoln returned with a glass of water, necessary to say he thankfully took his time, she had already stripped the small bed of the dirty sheets disposing of them in the small bathroom; where she had the time to splash some water to her face.

She looked worse than crap. Her face ghostly white and her skin almost transparent; she averted her eyes in distaste. She heard the door of her room open again slowly and she knew it was no time for pity, but damage control.

She returned to her room taking the glass of water from Lincoln's offering hand, flashing him a small appreciative look and thanking him as if this was a perfectly normal everyday situation. With the glass still trembling in her hand, she took a few gulps of cold water and God did it feel good as it slid down her burning throat delicately.

While she drank, Lincoln leaned against the small dresser on the far end of the room eyeing her intently with his hands shuffled in his slacks pockets. There was something so very familiar about his posture it made Sara's heart constrict with pain violently. Chicago and train bathrooms, seemed all of a sudden, desperately long ago. She took a deep breath, gazing into her glass, not knowing what to say; what he _expected_ her to say. They both knew very well what had happened and the humiliation of that brought a rush of heat into her face.

"You good?" asked Lincoln bashfully after a moment or two.

"Yeah." She breathed out with a nervous smile, her eyes never leaving the glass. It was the furthest from the truth she has ever been.

"You wanna talk about it?" He asked tentatively.

"Nope." Her answer came maybe a bit too quickly, but she didn't give a damn about that right now. Thank God he seemed to get the message.

"Ok." He said and there was a huge amount of understanding as well as acceptance in his posture as he finally unglued his frame from the dresser and made his way to the door; closing it behind him silently.

...

They didn't talk about the events of the previous night anymore and Sara was more than thankful. They left their small apartment in the morning and Sara felt maybe too much sadness for leaving it behind like that.

The whole drive to Sona they spent in deafening silence; each one lost in their own thoughts. As they were nearing the large square building, Sara felt her heart start to beat wildly. Lincoln parked the car just mere feet from the fence and shut off the engine. He looked over at her with a glance of desperate finality. All of a sudden stepping out of the car and walking the few yards seemed like the most demanding task in the world for Sara. She shot Lincoln a frightened look.

"You don't have to come." He said and she knew he wasn't nearly as brave as he sounded. One of them, however, needed to be the stronger one. And she cowardly came to the realization she was happy it didn't have to be her for once. She wanted to come with him, she truly did. Lincoln didn't deserve to go there all alone, to be the one who carried the burden by himself; because they were in this together. However, she couldn't find the strength in her with the all too vivid images from previous night playing over and over in her mind.

"Thank you." She finally uttered in what was more a whisper than anything else.

"I'll be right back." Said Lincoln and without any further preamble opened the car door and left.

She sat there for what felt like hours with her head rested against the headrest, her eyes closed, forcing the images of another place and more happy times into her mind.

'_Wow, we haven't even had our first date yet and you are already inviting me in.'_

…

'_Thank you for trying to make me smile Michael, but not today.' _

'_You never know.'_

…

'_I'll make you a bet. When I make it out of here, alive, I will take you to dinner… lunch... coffee.'_

…

'_It's a date.'_

…

"He's _not_ there!" The relieved shout snapped her from her reverie and before she had any chance to react, Lincoln was already slamming the car door behind him from inside.

"He did it Sara, he was _not_ amongst those dead guys. I even had to guts to double-check." He was smiling openly, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders and Sara couldn't help but notice he looked five years younger.

Her reaction was more controlled than his, the thought of two more days like this in front of them terrifying, but all the same, she let out an unsteady deep sigh, the relief over the fact that her dream was nothing more than a dream instead of a prophecy; overwhelming. Before she knew it Lincoln was hugging her tightly.

"Trust me. If he succeeded to disappear unnoticed yesterday, there is no way he will be stopped from pulling this for two more days." He meant his words, Sara knew. They were not meant to simply soothe and assure the two of them; Lincoln truly believed what he said. _And since Lincoln knew his brother best, maybe, just maybe_, Sara thought, _his words would come true after all._

...

A couple of hours later, Sara watched with great interest as the big bulky frame of Lincoln literally bounced with anticipation in the large arrival hall. She knew he hadn't seen his son for quite some time now and missed him immensely. Still, this nervous, almost cheery Lincoln was something very unfamiliar but nice all the same. It almost made her forget their troubles for the moment being. Almost. She couldn't deny a slight anticipation herself as she was preparing herself for meeting LJ, Lincoln's son who at the same time was also Michael's nephew.

As the small group of people finally came closer, it took her a couple of moments to catch at least a glimpse of the young boy; who was quickly thoroughly covered in Lincoln's embrace. So in the meantime Sara tried to asses the tall blonde woman, who was standing next to a group of four men, instead. It astounded her at once, how clearly it was that Jane was the one being in charge. An almost deadly calm radiated from her, her features closed and controlled yet still; she didn't look unfriendly.

"Sara?" She turned her head with a start. Lincoln's arm was still encircling the boy's shoulders and he was smiling broadly.

"Meet my son LJ." The boy outstretched his hand and his somewhat cheeky grin was a welcomed refreshment.

"Nice to meet you LJ." She said and cursed inwardly, noticing the slightest trace of nervousness in her voice.

"You're Uncle Mike's girlfriend." The teenager stated with a grin, seizing her up and down shamelessly. "You're pretty." Lincoln gave him a little smack; but the boy's grin only grew. "What? I am just saying. Uncle Mike had always good taste in women…" Another smack stopped him from finishing his sentence and something inside of Sara protested, her curiosity winning the better of her.

"Thank you…I think." She replied with narrowed eyes, looking up the boy more carefully and her breath caught in her throat painfully. He had so much of his uncle. As if reading her thoughts, the boy turned to his father.

"Is Uncle Mike going to be ok?" He asked and the genuine concern in his eyes made Sara's heart skip a beat.

"We hope so kiddo. We hope so." Replied Lincoln thoughtfully, shooting a quick glance over at Sara.

The tall blond woman finally stepped forward, outstretching her hand towards Sara.

"Doctor Tancredi? Jane Phillips." Sara took the offered hand and shook it friendly.

"Nice to meet you Miss Phillips…"

"…Please, Jane."

"…alright then, Jane."

"I've heard about your father. I'm sorry for your loss." The comment was again not unfriendly, but its directness caught Sara off-guard.

"Uhm…thank you." She mumbled, feeling like she just missed a step. In the meanwhile, Jane turned to Lincoln.

"We should go. Open places are not safe." She turned to the men standing next to her, clearly awaiting orders. "Pete, Sam, go start the cars. We will meet you outside in 15 minutes."

...

The safe house was…big. And empty. It was furnished, true, but the huge space it held felt more intimidating than comforting to Sara. In contrast to the small place she and Lincoln shared previously, this house was not situated in the middle of the city, but rather on its corner right along the beach. Jane said it was safer because they could monitor all the main roads leading to the house more easily; but Sara didn't feel any safer at all.

But to be fair, she just may not be used to this place so far. She sighed. She has been surrounded by more people than she could remember but still, she couldn't felt more lonely. She was sitting at the kitchen counter gazing into her coffee mug absentmindedly and couldn't stop thinking about Michael. The thoughts of him occupied her from dusk till dawn; where he was and what he was doing, how he was feeling, if he was thirsty or hungry or hurt at that very same moment.

She shifted the mug aside and rested her forehead on the counter. She was tired, God, she was horribly tired, but she knew she would get no rest. Not until Monday, if everything went right that is. Not ever if it didn't.

She raised her head shaking it stubbornly, refusing to succumb into negative thinking. Her relapse temptation was not more than 24 hours ago, her nightmare not more than 12, but with the meetings and moving and everything, it seemed so much longer ago. Thank God.

She raised to her feet and crossed the room heading for the stairs on her way to the room she claimed her own. She closed the door behind her, looking around the rather large bedroom. She looked over the double bed to the small balcony. The light late afternoon breeze was toying with the curtains and Sara closed her eyes, allowing her mind for the shortest of moments to picture her and Michael, God Michael, in this very same bed in a few days time; _together_. She squeezed her eyes tighter, swallowing a sudden lump in her throat that threatened to make it to the surface in the form of a sob. She would not yield. Not just yet, not when there still was hope.

She crossed the space and grabbed for her backpack, opening it and throwing out all it's contents onto the bed haphazardly; not caring much about anything in particular, until she found what she was looking for. She took out her cosmetics case whose purpose changed a couple of days ago to a far more noble aim; to keep her two roses safe. She opened it and carefully withdrew the red one, leaving the white in the case which she returned carefully back into the backpack. In case there was an emergency, she wanted the case to be in its place.

She returned down to the living room with all the remaining inhabitants occupying it; Jane talking security measures with the rest of her team, Lincoln and LJ quietly chatting to each other, probably catching up. Sara felt an odd impression of displacement.

She loudly cleared her throat and waited until Jane raised her eyes before asking for something she knew could very easily be denied to her.

"I would like to take a short walk to the beach. If that's alright…" She asked and immediately felt stupid for requesting permission to something as simple as leaving the house; but she knew she had the experience of being better safe than sorry long ago. Jane eyed her carefully and Sara had the unpleasant impression of being X-rayed. After a long while, Jane finally nodded and there was something of an understanding in the blond woman's eyes.

"Ok. Just don't wander off."

"I won't." She promised. Before she had the chance to leave through the large veranda door that led right down to the beach, Lincoln's voice stopped her. She turned in surprise; she didn't think he was even listening to her conversation with Jane.

"Hey…" He called softly when he finally caught up with her, bringing his hand up and curling it around her upper arm.

"You ok?" he asked, eyeing her carefully.

"I'm fine." She replied and even had the nerve to flash him a smile. _When did she learn to lie this shamelessly? _"I just need to get some fresh air, that's all." She added while pulling her arm out of his grasp ever so gently, but she could have slapped him right in the face and the gesture couldn't have been clearer. She didn't know why his touch all of a sudden irritated her, but it did, as she felt desperately in need for some space. Space from him, space from Jane, from their plans; all of it. She wanted privacy she didn't have the luxury of having. Privacy that was not granted to her even during last night. Her fingers caressed the paper rose she was hiding away in her palm lightly. Lincoln's eyes narrowed, studying her carefully, but then he let it go, nodding in agreement.

"Don't wander too far." He repeated Jane's previous words and Sara forced herself to flash him a smile, although inwardly she was fuming with an instant unexpected rage at how everybody else seemed all of a sudden to know what was best for her. She turned abruptly and left the house.

She spent half on hour walking the beach, all the time keeping in mind not to wander off too far or lose the view of the house. She may be angry and frustrated, but she was not stupid. The sun was slowly starting to set and she knew it was time to return. She made her way back to the house; reaching a different side of it rather quickly. Just as she was about turn the corner, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. On a deck that was not visible from the front nor the far back of the house was …_her heart skipped a beat …_a hammock. She stared at it completely mesmerized, her direction changing abruptly, her legs taking her towards it on their own volition. Before she knew it, she was climbing onto the soft canvas and it was so huge that the sides almost shadowed her figure from the surrounding world. She curled up into a ball, drawing her legs towards her chest.

For the first time in weeks, she felt the closest to being safe as she possibly could under the circumstances. She brought the rose to her face. Closing her eyes and drawing the fine paper over her features, she hoped to smell the least the faintest remainder of the person who gave it to her.

Before she knew it, the tears were coming. Quickly, thickly, surprisingly. She didn't sob nor heave. Only wept silently. The first time in weeks, she felt like she had found a safe place; her _safe heaven_. She used this opportunity to shed her most painful tears. Because tomorrow another day would come where she would be expected to be strong and calm and composed. And she couldn't be that person. Not without the chance to crawl into a dark corner and let her soul cry and mourn everything she lost and yet had to lose.

TBC


	11. Pieces of my Mind

**Fence Talks - Chapter 11 ****– Pieces of my Mind**

Sara turned restlessly in her place, angrily punching the pillow for the umpteenth time that night. She sighed heavily, along with the squeaking mattress. She grabbed her watch from the night stand and pushing the light button on, she squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. Something over 3 am. She rolled over to her back, staring silently onto the dark ceiling.

She couldn't blame the Sandman really. Sara knew it was her subconscious playing tricks on her. Somewhere far behind in a dark corner of her brain, she must have been afraid of falling asleep. All the same, she also couldn't blame her subconscious for feeling that way.

Yesterday had not been the first time she had experienced such a nightmare followed by a panic attack. Her strong physical reaction to her dream was also not new to her. Twice before had she lived through periods of night terrors like that.

First time was shortly after her mother died. She was young, she was grieving and she had been overworking in school. A university friend of hers she confided into told her she was just under a lot of pressure and stress and suggested she may need a change of environment. Sara did as she was told and her friend was right. 14 hour working days in Culcatta really did the job. After every wearing day she literally crashed onto her bed from exhaustion and slept through the night like a baby.

The second time was worse. Half way through her residency, Sara has made her first medical mistake. She misdiagnosed an older man's pneumonia for a strong flu and sent him home. Two days later he was back in critical condition and a day after that he died. That's when the second round of nightmares begun. It was only that one man at first who appeared in her dreams. Later, more people were added. People she couldn't save, children she couldn't help. Sleeping pills took her only so far. Pain medication followed short after. What came later she didn't really want to think about right now.

Sara rolled over once again, finally pulling herself into a sitting position. She was thinking. Sure she could survive two days without sleep. After all she had no problems managing that in the hospital during her 36 hour shifts. The question was however; what to do in her waking time. Days were easy. Nights were bad.

She stood up and walked over to the small bathroom. Switching on the lights she turned the water tap on and splashed some water on her overheated face, and looked over at her image in the mirror. Just like yesterday, she looked like crap, but she didn't mind that much anymore. She let the cooling water flow over her hands and through her fingers. It felt nice. It felt alive.

Sara could feel her whole body humming with energy. It was not a nice feeling though. It was a nervous unwanted prickling buzzing in all of her limbs. She knew that if she wanted to prevent another anxiety attack, she needed to either find some alcohol, or get rid of her superfluous energy. Since the first was not an option, she quickly made her decision.

Back before her nightmares started for the second time, Sara used to jog, a lot. It helped to get rid of the stress that built up at work. She knew that this option was, under her current circumstances, more than inadvisable. Still, it was either that or going insane.

She walked back to her room and dressed properly, pulling her sneakers on. Tying her still, rather short hair into a ponytail, she quietly opened the door of her room, making her way through the house as silently as possible. She would only be gone for a short while, never wandering off for too far; she promised herself.

Sara could orient herself around the house quite easily, her eyes already accustomed to the shadows of the furniture. She finally reached the back patio door and tried to push it open when all of a sudden a loud shrill alarm went off. She had only time to curse herself loudly before a sharp light lit the room blinding her momentarily and two men with guns pointing directly at her chest demanded her to freeze. Sara brought her arms to the air just as Jane, fully clothed Sara noted, and two other men entered the room as well. A resolved Lincoln and a terrified LJ were at their heels.

Sara couldn't have felt more ashamed and stupid. How on Earth could she have forgotten about the alarm contacts on the ground floor doors Jane told her about just a few hours prior? To be honest with herself, she has had other matters on her mind at that particular moment.

It took less than 15 seconds for everybody to take in the whole situation; and relaxing a great amount when realizing there was no immediate threat at hand. Jane nodded to her men to put their guns down and crossed the main room quickly to punch a few numbers into the panel on the wall. Within a few seconds the alarm was out, uncomfortable silence stretching like a plague throughout the room. Everybody was frozen on their spots, nobody saying anything. All eyes were on Sara who felt like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar way after midnight. She wished nothing more than to be able to silently crawl away and hide in some dark hole. But when her eyes met Jane's, she didn't dare to yield.

"Did _you_ set the alarm off?" The blonde woman asked and it was more an inquiry than an accusation.

"Yes." Sara answered, her eyes shying away at last.

"Ok." The woman said with a slight trace of satisfaction in her voice, signaling her men they were now allowed to retreat. When only the four of them were left, Sara knew she couldn't postpone the explaining any longer. She knew that all three sets of eyes were boring into her right now, while her own gaze was fixed upon a dark stain at the light creamy carpet.

"I am _terribly_ sorry. I totally forgot about the alarm contacts. I didn't want to scary any of you nor cause problems." She looked directly at Jane, her look somewhat desperate. Jane's gaze was intense and piercing, searching for further explanation. She may have found one at last, because she didn't ask more, only nodded.

"Just don't you ever do that again, alright?" She said and this time, there was a clear demand in her voice. Sara nodded resolutely, grateful for not being questioned any further. There was something in Jane's look that resembled acknowledgement and Sara had a bizarre feeling the blonde woman understood, although she had not way of knowing what was going through Sara's head right now.

"Wait, that's it!? She gets a slap on her wrist and we get to return to our beds!? I want an explanation!" All sets of eyes now turned to Lincoln whose voice was trembling with rage, his eyes wide and boring a hole into the woman standing still and awkward in front of the patio door.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing Sara?!"

She didn't reply. She couldn't. There was no way she could explain to him.

"WELL?!" Lincoln now fully raised his voice and Sara snapped her head up. She had the sudden feeling of being the daughter reprimanded by her father for sneaking out at night to meet her forbidden boyfriend. She shook her head quickly as if awakening from a heavy dream.

"I'm…am sorry Lincoln…I didn't want to scare any of you, I just…"

"You just _what_?!"

"…I…" she was stammering now, "…just couldn't sleep and wanted to get some fresh air, that's all." Her eyes were pleading with him, asking for understanding she already knew she wouldn't find this time.

"Cut the crap Sara! If you wanted fresh air your room has a balcony for Christ's sake!"

She was shifting nervously in her place chewing on her bottom lip, looking more miserable than Lincoln ever saw her before, but right now he didn't give a damn. He looked her over, suddenly realizing that she was fully dressed.

"Where the fuck did you wanna go at this time of night?!"

"I didn't want to go anywhere." She stammered anew, her eyes blinking for a few times, her tongue nervously licking her bottom lip.

"Stop _LYING_ to me!! Why are you dressed?!" He screamed unexpectedly; and LJ as well as Sara flinched at his aggressive demeanor.

"Keep your voice, as well as nerves, down Lincoln!" hissed Jane who didn't like this night conversation that was on tops playing in front of LJ at all.

He shot her a deadly stare. "No Jane, I won't shut up! I want answers!" He turned towards Sara once again. "And you better start talking quickly Sara, because my patience with you wears thin." He added menacingly.

Sara knew she screwed up and she knew Lincoln had all the right to be angry with her, but she was not a child, at least not _his_ child. They were equals and interrogations like this were not part of their relationship. She would not discuss her feelings or intentions with him, at least not like this and not in front of his son. She kept silent, her jaw set tight stubbornly.

What was she supposed to tell him? That if she stayed in her room for a minute longer, she may as well take a razor blade and cut her arms to release the tension that gripped her whole being? What did he want to hear? That she wouldn't sleep because she knew nightmares of his brother would come and haunt her sleep? Blood was roaring in her ears, her breathing slow, but still too elaborate. She closed up.

"I'm waiting Sara…" He continued in a warning tone.

No answer.

"Dad stop…" the anxiety in LJ's voice was almost palpable, but Lincoln was already gripped by too much anger to be able to listen to his sons pleas right now.

"Ok, as you please. I go first. Do you have _ANY_ fucking idea how much you could have endangered yourself? How _stupid_ do you have to be to want to sneak out into the night. God knows where for God knows what reasons without telling any of us?" Sara still kept silent, but her shoulders slumped a little.

"Do you have _ANY_ freaking idea how much you could have endangered not just your sorry ass, but all of us?!"

"I know. And I am sorry." Sara uttered quietly, her eyes still burning a hole into the carpet stain. The fact she refused to look at him directly appeared to infuriate Lincoln even more.

"What if they caught you?! What if they followed you?! You could have lead them directly here, into this house! To us all; to my son!!"

"I think that's enough Lincoln!" Cut Jane through strongly but Lincoln wasn't paying any attention to her words.

"Do you have any idea whatsoever what you may have done?! You could have got us all killed!!"

"I _know_ and I said I was sorry!" Sara finally answered loudly and eloquently enough, her eyes rising to meet his at last. "It was a short-circuit reaction and I swear it won't happen again."

"I don't care about your promises Sara!" He shouted oblivious to the fact the woman in front of him was starting to shake uncontrollably. "_Everybody_ in this house is extremely unnerved but none of us tried to sneak out in the middle of the night! For what?! Tell me Sara, what could possibly be so important to leave the house at night?! Did you get a sudden urge to get a fix or what?! _What_ was so important Sara?!" There was a deadly shocked silence in the room for the shortest of moments, Sara's eyes snatching up to stare at Lincoln in sheer disbelief, but this had not yet been his last word.

"Do you know why _she_ is here?" He pointed his finger at Jane. "She and four other men are willing to give their lives to keep us safe, to keep _you_ safe, to keep _Michael_ safe!"

Sara wasn't looking at Lincoln anymore. The blood in her ears was buzzing loudly and she simply directed all of her energy and willpower to stay at her feet. She'd never seen Lincoln so enraged ever before and she would be lying if she said the sight of him didn't scare her.

"Stop it dad, please!" LJ cried desperately.

"You know what Sara?" Said Lincoln at last, lowering his voice which only increased the audible amount of spite in it. "My brother gave his freedom and possibly even his life only to keep _you_ safe. And this reckless selfish act of yours means you may not have been worth of that sacrifice."

"That's enough Lincoln!" Said Jane and this time, Lincoln didn't protest. He was panting hard and turning on his spot, he finally looked at his son maybe for the first time that night. The teenager had tears in his eyes, his arms hugging his figure protectively. As if now realizing how much he overstepped the line, not only with Sara but also with his son, he made a move towards LJ who made a matching step backwards.

"You are a jerk! And you haven't changed a bit." LJ uttered with disbelief, still too shaken over his fathers previous words, glancing over at the shrunken woman with the now absentminded; almost hypnotized look on her face. "If Uncle Mike knew, he would beat the crap out of you!"

With that, he turned away and quickly left, his feet taking two steps at one stride, silently thumping at the wooden stairs.

Lincoln cursed loudly and turned back to face the two women. Jane's eyes were blazing with anger, Sara's expression was on the contrary; completely blank. She brought her hand to her forehead grazing it lightly with the tips of her fingernails in absentminded strokes. She licked her lips anew.

"Are we finished here?" She asked somewhat breathlessly, her eyes asking Jane and not Lincoln.

"Definitely." Jane answered resolutely and when the shaken woman passed her on her way to the stairs, she squeezed Sara's arm reassuringly for the shortest of moments. The younger woman didn't turn nor acknowledge the gesture being too shaken to realize properly what was happening around her. She heavily climbed up the stairs and then she was gone.

When sure Sara couldn't be at earshot anymore, Jane stepped towards Lincoln gripping at his upper arm painfully.

"Now you listen to me." She said through gritted teeth. "You ever pull such shit again, and I will personally make sure you regret it. I don't know what got into you today but frankly, I don't give a damn. This was not _your_ call and what you did didn't help anybody. A mistake has been made but we all could have handled it quietly and reasonably. But no, you had to pull that fucking alpha male card, that on one hand extremely upset your son and secondly, beat down an already beaten up woman. She obviously has problems coping with this whole situation and from what you told me, she doesn't handle stress well. So if she manages to pull through alright until Monday after today's events, it will be a little miracle." She let go of his arm shoving him angrily and watching with satisfaction as a voice of reason finally started to dawn on Lincoln again, uncertainty, and the first beams of guilt and shame flashing upon his features. Jane turned as if about to leave but then turned one more time to say one last thing that was on her mind.

"Oh and by the way, your son was right. You better pray your brother doesn't find out about this or you will have some serious explaining to do to him." She turned and left, leaving Lincoln's slumped figure standing alone in front of the incriminated fucking patio door.

…………………………..

The moment she closed the door of her room behind her she finally let her guard down, allowing her body to crash down right there against the door frame; her legs breaking beneath her. Her whole body shook uncontrollably, her heart beating as if wanting to break out of her chest. A thought occurred to her all of a sudden and she scrambled to her feet, making her way to the small bathroom of hers. She snatched open the medical cabinet and with Lincolns voice still resonating in her ears, she took out every pain medication she could find. She looked at the two bottles in her hands, allowing herself the faintest of moments to think. She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments and almost choked at the familiar face that immediately sprung to her mind. She pressed her forehead against the mirror, exhaling deeply.

She couldn't do this to herself now. God knew she felt a searing pain so strong she almost cramped into a little heap of flesh, but she _couldn't_ do this now. She couldn't do this to _him_. Not when he was possibly somewhere hiding right now, that very moment, waiting and hoping to find her whole and sober when he got out.

Her face contorted in pain, tears started to run down her cheeks silently. She sniffed and opened her eyes, her gaze once more fixing upon the labels on the small bottles. He has been so devastated last time and she knew the guilt for what _she_ had done those months ago was probably still heavily pressing on him. Damn, why did he only have to take responsibility for every fucking thing that happened in her life since the two of them met?

"_I've heard what happened__…I am so sorry…It's been real Sara. You and me. It's real."_

It _was_ real. It still is as it was the day he almost whispered those words to her through that forbidden line. Lincoln was right about one thing. Michael didn't deserve to be punished by her selfishness. Only Lincoln didn't understand that the greatest danger to her was not some unknown enemy out there but she herself.

Michael was in Sona now, surviving through everything in hopes to find her at the other side as she promised to him, unharmed and safe. And she couldn't take that hope from him. Just like he felt responsible for her then, she now feels responsible for him.

She makes her choice quickly because the urge is almost overwhelming and she can't guarantee for herself any longer. She crosses the room and snatches the balcony door open. With all her force and anger and fear, she throws both the bottles out of her window and into the darkness.

Immediately Sara feels relief. There is nothing to tempt her now. She is drained. Empty. A dull ache resides, but that's about it. Curiously enough, when she closes her eyes, Michael's face appears again, a large proud smile dancing over his lips. And although she knows he is nothing more than a figment of her imagination and wishful thinking, she is glad for his 'company'.

She returns to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She partly undresses and leaps into the shower stand. Pushing the water to maximum hot, she sits down onto the floor drawing her knees to her chest, resting her head on her knees. She still refuses to fall asleep and has to find a new way to keep her body awake. Only her _body_, for her mind won't find rest today anymore; she is sure of that. She sits under the strong fiery flow for minutes and minutes until her skin prickles and burns. Then she switches the water to icy cold. She keeps this up, switching the two opposite flows until morning comes. By the time, she has set up her mind. One more day. If God allows, _and she was never a religious person in her life before_, she will survive one more day and give whatever she has left of her. He is worth it.

'_Wait for me._'

At that time, five years sounded impossibly long. Today, one day still sounds impossibly long. But he's the only thing she's got left, so she waits.

TBC

_Love Reviews of all kinds. :)_


	12. Umbilical Bond

By the time Lincoln jogged down the stairs, the sun was already streaming through to large veranda door right into the living area, some of its gleams straying into the kitchen

_So you guys. It's almost 2am in the morning and in a couple of hours, I am flying to France. But I couldn't do this to you without posting my new chapter of Fence Talks. I know, I am a sweetheart. ;)_

_Anyway, hope you will enjoy reading.:) Many thanks to sweet ellen aka lssilence for doing the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine. _

**Chapter 12 – Umbilical Bond**

By the time Lincoln jogged down the stairs, the sun was already streaming through the large veranda door right into the living area and even straying into the kitchen. Sara was already sitting there staring into a mug of coffee; her look absentminded. The dark circles under her eyes were a clear indication she didn't get much sleep after the events of the previous night either.

It was still fairly early and she was sitting alone at the table, thank God for that. He didn't have to find the courage to wish her good morning, being sure that, considering the night's events, it would be sheer mocking. Still, he didn't want to startle her, so he cleared his throat loudly, uttering a quiet "Hi.".

She raised her head and acknowledged his presence by a nod and that was it. Still, it was more than he expected.

"Coffee?" She asked casually and her question as well as her careless tone caught Lincoln off balance.

"Uhm, yeah, sure." He replied and watched as she got up and opened a cupboard drawing a mug like her own. Lincoln was thinking. He knew that if he wanted to talk to her about the previous night the best and probably only chance to do this was right now. There was no one else up yet, they were alone and they still had time until they would need to leave for Sona. However, even due to these rather fitting circumstances, the task didn't appear any more appealing.

She finished pouring the hot dark liquid into his cup, her movements calm and deliberate and Lincoln though for the slightest fraction of a second that if she added a poison into his coffee, he wouldn't be that surprised. As she passed the coffee into his hands, Lincoln couldn't help but notice she acted as if the previous night hadn't happen at all. He didn't know whether it was a good or a bad sign, and for a moment he wished for Michael's sense for detail. His brother would surely know how to interpret her calm - almost friendly - yet still distant behavior.

He finally cleared his throat; it was now or never. "Listen Sara…" he started but was abruptly stopped by her hand quickly rising to the air in a gesture of silence.

"Let me go first." She said and it sounded almost like a command. "…please." She added more gently, drawing a deep breath.

"I know that what I did yesterday was extremely stupid and reckless, and thoughtless and I swear it won't happen again. You had every right to be angry with me and although I don't agree with your way of letting me know, I understand…in a way." She drew a new breath, her eyes skimming the walls and kitchen counter and everything else but Lincolns face. Still she continued.

"Emotions are running high constantly and you were scared for your family and I get that." Her usage of the phrase 'your family' stung more than if she just slapped him right across his face. He wanted to interfere but she wouldn't let him. "Please let me finish. I know that my actions could have endangered everyone in this house and possibly even Michael…" at this point she let out a shaky breath, "…but as I already said, there is no way in hell such thing will happen ever again. So let's close this issue agreeing that a mistake has been done and a punishment in form of your outburst yesterday was enough, and let's not talk about it anymore."

Despite her words, her tone was cold and her eyes averted, and Lincoln knew that if he had ever had a chance with her to trust and possibly even confide in him, he had lost that chance forever a couple of hours ago. Still, he was feeling guilty enough to try to repair at least a bit of the damage he had done.

"No Sara, we're not square." He said and saw her head snap up quickly, her eyes narrowing in challenge for him to disagree. "What I said to you, and the form I used was in no way how I should have handled the situation. I guess my nerves just exploded, but that is not an excuse for the freaking scene I blew yesterday." He could see he caught her full attention now. "I won't say I'm sorry, because I know it won't do the trick. My son was right; if Michael knew…"

"I won't tell Michael if that's what your concern." She blurted quickly, evidently getting antsy by his words.

"No, that's not what I meant. You see…" Lincoln tried to choose his words with care. "My brother asked me to do something for him and yesterday I broke that promise…" The moment he caught a glimpse of her face he saw the wrong realization dawn upon her. He cursed under his breath. Before he had any chance to modify his words; for this was not the message he wanted to pass on her, she beat him to it.

"Well, I won't be a problem anymore Lincoln. And please, don't feel obliged to look out for me just because Michael asked you to, because I can manage for myself just fine."

"…That's not what I…" he wanted to protest but she didn't let him.

"Excuse me, but we have to leave in about 15 minutes and though I would really enjoy the pep talk, I still need to change my clothes." She quickly sprung to her feet and off she went, the sound of her feet jogging up the stairs reverberating through the large kitchen.

_Well, t__hat went...fuck…_

…………………….

Precisely 15 minutes later Lincoln was met at the car by a nervous-looking Sara, her jaw clenched tightly and her eyes covered by dark sunglasses. The reason for wearing them was pretty obvious too. _Damn._

They got in the car in silence, again just the two of them. The whole time Sara didn't speak nor utter a single word. She only gazed into the distance out of her side window. The silence was pressing hard in the small car, until Lincoln couldn't stand it any longer.

"Look Sara, I know that after yesterday it's probably the last thing you want to hear, but I am really sorry for what I said. If I could I would do just about anything to take it back."

She was silent for a moment and Lincoln started thinking she might continue ignoring him; then she finally replied.

"I'm more than happy you can't." Her tone was cold. "It's nice to hear some uncoated honesty for a change. I am sick of everybody wanting to _protect_ me, tiptoeing around me like I had some kind of deadly disease and I was the only one who wasn't aware of it." She almost hissed her last words. _Ok, so she was openly pissed at him now. That could be counted for a progress, right?_

"It wasn't about honesty Sara!" Said Lincoln a bit more forcefully. "I was angry, I talked shit. Period! When you shot Kim, you saved my life. It should be me sitting in that God damned place, not Michael." She didn't reply, her silence neither agreeing nor disagreeing, so he quickly continued his speech.

"And I also don't want to hear you talk about us like that anymore; like there was '_our'_ family and then there was '_you'_. You _are_ a part of this family, whether you like it or not. So for fucks sake, stop pretending like _we're_ pushing you away! It's _you_ who doesn't let anyone get closer than ten feet!"

"Right." she uttered quietly, her eyes never leaving the road ahead, her jaw clenched even tighter. Lincoln groaned inwardly. He wasn't taking things the right way, he knew, but God help him, he was loosing his nerve with her once again. She was being impossible and Lincoln felt his frustration with her stubbornness grow. He took a deep breath. _Just don't do or say anything you might regret later_._ Just don't do or say anything you might regret later_. Suddenly, the right words started flowing into his head. Or at least he hoped they were the right thing to say. He sighed in a strange feel of relief to be able to calm down at least a bit, then started anew in a far more calmer and deliberate tone.

"I guess I was so angry yesterday thinking about the prospect of what could have happened if you succeeded and left the house without anybody knowing where you went." She finally unglued her eyes from the road, turning her head towards Lincoln. Even through the dark glasses, he could see the steel-hard look she was still giving him.

"You mean what would _Michael_ think if you failed in your bodyguard mission." She uttered steadily and Lincoln could feel the fury rise in his chest once again. She was intentionally provoking him and God help him but he bought that from her almost with pleasure. He couldn't bite his tongue any longer and he snapped.

"You know, you are sometimes unbelievably difficult to deal with Sara. You know, what you're saying there is complete bullshit. Hell, stop being so bloody stubborn! You're pissed; I get that, ok? But there is no need to derogate my relationship with Michael." He spat, the irritation in his voice now clear.

She only hung her head slightly and didn't reply any further. She seemed to shrink a bit in her seat. Lincoln felt a pang of guilt and sympathy for her, knowing his presence could sometimes be more intimidating than he was realizing. He sighed. His problem with Sara was that he couldn't handle her passive aggressive behavior.

He concentrated upon the road once more while biting his tongue before commenting any further. He felt the anger rise up in his chest once again. However, this time it was anger at himself.

Was this his idea of repairing things? Yell at her like she was a fucking teenager? Among other things, he couldn't handle even that. He momentarily remembered his constant - almost child-like - fights with LJ. Damn but she was not a child. And she has been through nearly as much, if not even more, than all of them too. She surely deserved something else. She deserved _better_. But he couldn't do better. He couldn't _give_ her better.

He was never in a position like this before. When he was with V - the only woman he had a real relationship with – it had been different. They fought loudly, they fought fiercely. She would always scream back into his face, they both would, until they yelled themselves to a solution and then they would make up in form of the best sex ever possible.

But Sara was different. She wouldn't say what was on her mind, she would keep quiet and stubborn and Lincoln always found himself empty-handed with her; he simply had nothing to work with. She was not one to be provoked into telling him all she thought in one angry stride aimed against him. No, Sara would simply bottle up even tighter. In a way, she was like Michael. Clutching her secrets tightly to her chest and staying a closed book for anyone else but her. _And his brother_; Lincoln though darkly. He wasn't stupid. He noticed those looks passing between the two of them during all those joint visitations. They could communicate without using words, it was like they were fucking reading their minds. This was not Lincoln's case though. Lincoln needed something verbal or voiced; something he could work with. Sara however didn't give him anything. Frustration built up.

Maybe time and space were the best thing he could give her. Only one day and Michael would hopefully be back. Then he would take this particular matter into his own hands; do anything to make her happy and smiling again. Because if not, Lincoln was sure he would lose it soon. Sara was great, she really was. But not around him. Unfortunately was she not only great but also very difficult. The one who made her '_easy_' was the one now locked up behind the walls of the large square building that just came into their view ahead of them.

Lincoln sighed inwardly. His brother gave him the task to take care of the woman sitting next to him. It was a difficult task and Michael had warned him, but still Lincoln seemed to have underestimated the stubborn doctor. And now he felt like he failed his brother completely. What, however, pressed even heavier upon him was that he failed him in a task that was utterly sacred to his brother; in protecting the ones he loved most.

Lincoln pulled his car over and killed the engine. He looked in surprise as Sara snatched her sunglasses of her face and tossed them carelessly at the dashboard in front of her while unbuckling her seatbelt. "My turn today." She murmured simply and before Lincoln had any chance to react out she slipped from the car, smashing the door behind her.

She returned in less than five minutes, though to Lincoln it felt like hours; her expression unreadable.

"He was _not_ there." She said tightly, her voice strangely strangled and Lincoln couldn't help but sigh in relief.

"Thank God." He uttered at last. He looked at the woman sitting herself back beside him and noticed her hands were shaking violently. She stared ahead of her, relief mixed with shock mixed with disgust, and what she was forced to witness all clearly visible on her face. Strangely, for once her expression was not guarded. That _was_ something Lincoln could work with.

He bent in his seat to get a better look at her with a quiet "Hey…that's great news, right?" He touched her shoulder carefully. She snapped her head in his direction catching his eyes with hers, silent fearful tears finally finding their way out of her eyes and sliding down her cheeks.

Lincoln didn't hesitate this time, he chose not to over-think but act on his instincts. He pulled her close in an instant and she surprisingly complied without hesitation, burying her face in the crook of his neck and encircling his shoulders with both of her arms emitting a couple of bad-concealed sobs.

He stroked her hair carefully, whispering a silent; "Everything is gonna be okay." into her ear over and over again.

She lay completely still – almost stiff - within his embrace for a couple of moments, but she didn't do anything to release him just yet and Lincoln was glad. She let him in at last, if even for the shortest of moments.

"Give him 24 more hours and _he'll_ be here embracing you yourself." Lincoln whispered in her ear and felt her stiffen completely. Yet she still didn't move away. "And then I promise to get out both of your faces for a long time and let you have your peace and space at last." He uttered and felt her shift out quickly of their embrace. Firstly, he though that what he said may have angered her in some way. Then he saw her look at him with those impossibly brown orbs of hers and for the shortest of moments he remembered a different set of blue eyes he used to stare into like this what seemed like such a long time ago.

"I don't want you to leave when he gets out. He'll need you as much as he will need me." She whispered breathlessly and what she said made a startled Lincoln feel better, though he didn't know exactly why.

"I don't want to step between the two of you." She continued, her voice still a muffled whisper. "You have such a strong bond I can't even start to understand it. Sometimes…" she took a deep breath before continuing, "I feel like…_an intruder_." She averted her gaze while licking her lips in a nervous gesture and Lincoln thought that this may be the most private thing she would ever share with him. He was too overwhelmed to talk for a moment.

"You didn't…_step_ between us Sara. You just…_added_ to the gang…to _us_, to our family." Lincoln replied softly. "There is me, and there is Michael, and there is LJ and now there is you. And although it may not look like it at times, I am happy for my brother…for us all to have found you. I can be such a jerk at times, but don't let yourself be tricked by that, I _am_ truly fond of you." He could see something shift in her eyes. She was listening closely now.

"The happiness I see on Michael's face when he is around you…Jeez Sara, you have _no_ freaking idea! I haven't seen such contentedness or sheer joy on his face, _ever_. I would be a fool if I wanted to deny him that luck." He said and saw a new tear slide down her cheek; she was momentarily lost for words. He reached forward and hesitated for a moment before he wiped the tear away with his thumb. She didn't flinch nor lean into his touch, she was simply frozen; in time and space.

"When all this is over," he continued more firmly, "there will finally be time to stop and settle and rebuilt. And it would be very selfish of me to want to… _keep_ Michael to myself when there is my son who needs all my attention right now. Michael deserves to love and be loved as much as anyone else, maybe even more, given his history, and in you he found not just the right person for that but also so much more; he found somebody to _understand_ who he is and where he came from and how he feels and works and all that. And trust me, he can be creepy and difficult and hell he can be stubborn, you'll see…" he stopped when he saw a small smile escape her lips followed by an uneasy chuckle before continuing, "I admit, it may have scared me a little at the beginning; _you _havescared me." Lincoln's teeth were nibbling at his inner cheek while he so strongly tried to find the right words. "Not you as a person, but the new presence of you in our lives. Suddenly, there was somebody new I had to share Michael's attention with; and I was not used to that. It's…" he exhaled deeply "…complicated."

He finally dared to raise his eyes, his look a bit sheepish. "Our childhood…it wasn't easy and we sort of developed what may be called a strong – almost unhealthy - umbilical bond. And I think it's time to lessen that bond just the slightest bit to allow other people to step into it too. I still feel the need to protect my brother, even after all those years although he's now a grown man, fully capable to look after himself. But I don't feel the need to protect him from _you_."

There was silence, Sara simply staring at Lincoln. He was pretty shocked himself. He never thought he would to be able to deliver a speech with a meaning like that. Not to anyone, not ever. Again, Sara Tancredi proved him wrong. Lincoln doubted he would be able to reveal this even to his brother. He looked at her once again before shifting his gaze back to the wheel.

"Thank you." He heard her utter but he didn't dare to look at her nor question what exactly she was thanking for.

"Six down, one to go." He spoke darkly in a hoarse voice and saw her nod unenthusiastically. With that, he turned the car to speed back to their safe house, painfully aware that the woman sitting besides him watched the large square building with despair to the very last moment until it vanished completely from her sight.

TBC

_Ok, So I am off to bed now. :) Hoped you had a nice time reading this. :) _


	13. Blisters and Fever

_Ok, I know I've taken my time, but I've been really really busy. __Anyway, you all surely deserved this chapter for being so patient and supportive. You all have waited so long for this, so I hope you will be ok with how things turned out. Because we are still not finished yet! ;) _

_Huge t__hanks to the sweetest girl possible, lssilence for doing the betta. :) All remaining mistakes, as usual, are mine._

_Thank you all for your patience and support. They helped me a lot to get back on track with this story._ _:)_

**Chapter 13 – ****Blisters and Fever**

Sara woke to a quickly spreading tingling and burning sensation. It was growing rapidly until the pain was so strong her body finally reacted and started to wake her from her heavy slumber. She snapped to consciousness, momentarily disoriented to her whereabouts. She was sitting, soaking wet in the shower booth; and her skin was on fire. Her hand quickly gripped the tap and switched the water from hot to cold. In mere seconds, a balm of a cold sprinkle started to stream down her body and it was only then when she realized the skin of her arms, thighs and partly also her chest was red raw and truly burned; small blisters already starting to make their way to the surface of her tender skin. Sara cursed nastily. _How the hell could she sleep through such a violent onslaught of boiling water to her very own flesh?_

She raised her arms and hands to her eyes, assessing the level of burns. Her skin looked like she had been roasted by the sun for hours on end. Sara cursed anew and closed her eyes in frustration, her head bumping backwards against the hard wall. God was she tired; so unbelievably tired.

She wanted to look at her watch but then remembered she didn't take it into the bathroom. She let the water cool her aching, burning body for a couple minutes longer before finally stepping out onto the cold tile floor. Without giving the mirror a single glance – _What was the point? She knew she looked like crap_ – she opened the small cabinet in search for a soothing skin ointment. Pleasantly surprised, she found a first degree burns cream; Jane certainly planning on everything. The saying 'better safe than sorry' surely applied to the blonde by all means.

Wearing just a towel loosely wrapped around her aching body, Sara massaged the cream into her skin, occasionally wincing when she hit a particularly heavy burned spot. _Wonderful. Just wonderful. _How she would explain this to Lincoln, and God help her Michael, if they got a chance to glimpse her obviously abused skin, she didn't know.

She wanted to be angry with herself for her neglect, she wanted to feel awkward and embarrassed when thinking about facing a possible confrontation. She was so tired though, she didn't give a damn at the moment. She just wanted to crawl into her bed and sleep soundly for a week, maybe a month even. And she wanted Michael to join her. She wanted _Michael_. She wanted to finally feel his arms wrapped around her body, pressing her against him, his breath tingling and ghosting over the tender skin of her neck and ear. God, she wanted so many things, so many things so shamelessly. She almost cried at all the things she wanted and yet couldn't have.

Something in her head suddenly snapped and she sobered. What was only wrong with her? She hardly recognized herself. Michael was god knows where doing god knows what - possibly in danger or in pain - but all she was thinking about was how she wished to have him in her arms, have him in her bed. Was she being selfish because of wanting all of this and far more, right now? She probably was. Maybe she should be ashamed, but again, right now she couldn't care less. She didn't have the energy to argue with herself. She loved this man and he loved her back – _God,_ _he loved her back -_ and still, the universe with the Company, were playing these fucking tricks on them. Tricks that have already cost then all way too much. And yet, the two of them still didn't get a change, _not a single fucking chance_, to spend as much as five minutes alone together. Tears of heartache started to push themselves into her eyes but she blinked them away. She was too tired to cry. She was to tired to do anything. She just wanted to sleep. And not feel. And sleep some more.

Instead, Sara glanced at her watch. 5.32 am. That was actually better than she expected. She crawled out of bed, making her way to her backpack rummaging through the scanty amount of clothes, looking for something long sleeved to wear.

Half an hour later, she was fully dressed sitting at the kitchen table, lost in her thoughts and staring into a glass of orange juice. She felt physically sick and this time, it had nothing to do with the lack of food or sleep. She tried to imagine the best case scenario. That in three hours - four tops – she would be holding Michael in her arms and letting his eyes to light her up from inside, his smile caress and fill her to the brim.

Her fantasy was poisoned this morning however. When she closed her eyes, all she saw were blank unfocused dead eyes and a once beautiful mouth agape and full of vermin. The horrors of her nightmare came rushing back again, almost making her gag. _What the hell was wrong with her?_

"Morning."

Sara's head snapped up just in time to see Lincoln's tall frame enter the kitchen. Before she could do anything about it, she saw him skimming her face, as if assessing her mental state. She felt a sudden rush of fury and outrage. How dare he _asses_ her? He had no right doing that.

Instead of acting on her impulses however, she brought the most neutral, impenetrable expression on her face, even gave Lincoln a small smile.

"Morning yourself." _Good, she sounded normal, almost cheery._ _Thank you for the lessons dad._ The memory of her father jumped to her mind out of reflex. Before she knew it was her chest constricting painfully at the memory of her fathers murder. She didn't even have the time to mourn him properly yet. _And now is no better time, Sara._

"Coffee?" She asked casually and acknowledged Lincoln's nod.

"Thanks. So… slept well?" The question was unforced, but Sara almost let the kettle drop from her hand.

"Fine." With her back still to Lincoln, she took her time to stir the sugar she knew he always took with his morning coffee. "You?"

"Couldn't sleep at all. Bad dreams." He stated and Sara felt a shadow of sympathy. She turned around and handed him his coffee, a small, and this time genuine smile escaping her lips. Just as she sat down, they heard Jane descend the stairs. Looking perfectly neat as if she didn't sleep or rest at all, she gave a small nod, joining them at the table.

"So…" Sara cleared her throat. "…when exactly are we leaving for Sona?" She didn't notice her grip tightening around her glass, causing her knuckles to go white. She saw Jane hesitate, maybe for the first time since they met those two days ago.

"Well, about that. I don't think it would be wise if you came with us today, at all." She said without further ado.

_She surely must have heard her wrong._ "I beg your pardon?"

"I think it wouldn't be safe for you to go with us. You will stay here, at the house, while we pick up Michael. It shouldn't take long, we should be back in two hours tops."

"_We_? Must have missed the moment I got excluded from the party." Sara's voice was dripping sarcasm, trembling slightly with the effort to keep her tone calm. "I don't give a damn if it's safe or not. I am going." She spat angrily and shot an accusing glare at Lincoln. He squirmed under her look.

"Sara, try to be reasonable. Jane might be right, the Company is still going after us." Despite his words, Lincoln sounded insecure and uncomfortable about the situation. And yet, he supported Jane's stance and this infuriated Sara even more.

"So the Company is going after _me_, but not _you_, right? And it was still ok for me to go with _you_ each day to check if your brother was still alive or lying dead among a heap of cadavers. But it's _all of a sudden_ dangerous for me to go pick him up, right?" She couldn't believe this, she couldn't understand. She tried but the logic stayed hidden to her.

"The Company probably knows Michael is being released today. They may be waiting for their best chance to make a move. You and LJ are possible targets. We can't afford looking after so many people at once." Jane's statement sounded simple, even reasonable, but that didn't bother Sara the least bit. She shot a look at Lincoln, an accusation of betrayal clearly mirroring in her eyes. _He couldn't do this to her. Not after everything the two of them have been through to get Michael out._

Something inside of Lincolns look broke and he looked at Jane. "Sara's in." He nodded in defeat at last. Jane eyed him back, her look unyielding but pensive. She finally gave in too, switched her attention to Sara. "Under one condition. You are under _no_ circumstances leaving the car. Only Lincoln and I will go inside. You will wait in the car until we come back with Michael." _Sara wondered as to how and when did she ended up being commanded by a woman she barely knew. But Lincoln trusted her. _Michael_ trusted her._ In the end, she resigned and nodded.

"Ok. We leave in an hour. Get prepared, we will take two cars. Me, you and Lincoln will drive in one car, Pete and Sam in the other. In case the Company is there, Pete and Sam will back us up and help us get rid of them in case we're followed." She turned to Lincoln. "Mark and Bob will stay here with LJ." He nodded. Jane got to her feet. "See you in an hour then."

The blonde was not even out the room yet when Sara had risen from the table too, leaving a grim looking Lincoln alone in the kitchen. He ran a hand over his cropped head, scrapping his scull. God he hoped his little brother was alright and all of this mess would be cleared before the end of the day.

/

The moment Michael heard the sirens ring for the first time he immediately scrambled to his feet. Almost blindly, he started to walk towards the exit, pain shooting through his whole body with venomous force. He groped at the wall of the tunnel, proceeding slowly. If the guards didn't find him at count on time, would they look for him? What's worse, would he endanger his release?

Finally, he reached the entry to a passageway but tripped over some stuff lying on the floor, causing him to almost fall down. He cursed as his body hit against the wall, his pain intensifying tenfold. He didn't stop to look back at the object that nearly caused his fall but blindly stumbled to where he expected the courtyard to be. His mind was cloudy and unfocused, he barely knew where he was going and even less what he was doing. The only thing he knew was that he had to get to the yard. _The yard, the yard, the yard._ It was his mantra he repeated to himself over and over again, out of fear to forget what he was supposed to do.

Finally, he reached his destination, vaguely noticing the difference between his fellow prisoners and army soldiers. The sun was blinding him, his eyes on fire, head pounding. Everything was so fuzzy, his mind heavy and tired. But he made it, he was there, was where he was supposed to be. At least he thought where he was supposed to be, suddenly he couldn't remember. He tried to stay focused as two guards grabbed him by the arms, unceremoniously dragging his half-conscious body out of Sona. _God, finally out of Sona._

/

Sara felt like she was sitting on tiny pins that were causing her to shift restlessly in her spot. It was taking too long. Jane and Lincoln were taking too long. Panic started to rise in her chest. Something must have gone wrong, something must have happened.

Sara was restless and caged; all of a sudden needing to use all her strength to suppress the urge to open the car door and walk into the Sona office station herself. She knew such attempt would probably be of little success. The two men sitting in the nearby car surely received orders from Jane to stop her should she attempt to pull any stunts.

She felt her with sweat covered hands tremble. This was it. Returning her gaze back to the entrance door, she waited. A couple of moments later – though they felt like an eternity – the gates finally opened and, at last, three people exited Sona. Two of them were half carrying, half dragging Michael's slumped form and her heart lurched with fear.

She was all confused momentarily, not knowing if to feel relieved that he was alive or to be scared at the sorry state of him. He was obviously sick; and possibly hurt or injured. Half-way to the car, his legs broke under him and he almost collapsed to the ground. Jane bent under the unexpected weight-shift but straightened quickly and it was all Sara could do to not open the car door and run towards them. However, she knew she would be of little help right now. They needed to get him into the car and for that, two people were enough. It didn't stop the pressing chilling feeling in her chest though.

They finally reached the car; Sara briskly opening the back door and making room while helping to lay an almost unconscious Michael onto the back seat. By the time she had moved and shifted Michael's body into a somewhat comfortable position, Jane had the car already started and was pulling away from the parking lot with screeching wheels.

Sara finally looked down at Michael properly for the first time, realizing only now she was cradling his head in her lap. She didn't have the time to marvel in the feeling to have him finally in her arms though. He was all covered in blood and sweat and grime, his eyes unfocused and glazed over, his skin ghostly white. He was mumbling incoherently and _oh God so quietly_, his voice raspy, barely over a whisper. Her eyes quickly skimmed over his body but she couldn't find any visible source of pain in his bad state.

"What happened?" She asked frantically at last, her question directed to Lincoln and Jane, but her eyes never leaving Michaels face. While with one free hand caressing his whiskered cheek, Sara used her other one to grab for his pulse.

"We don't know. They handed him over like this." roared Lincoln, his voice badly concealing anger and concern. When Sara finally found a pulse, the faint echo made her own heart race.

"We need to get him to a hospital."

"Not an option. The Company would find us there."

"He barely has a pulse and God knows what's wrong with him!" She cried in anger and despair.

"Jane is right. We can't get him to a hospital, it's too risky." Lincoln turned in his seat to look at his brother and then her, a sudden spark of fury in his eyes. "You are a fucking doctor Sara! So get a grip and use your medical skills, for Gods sake!" he shouted at her in a gruff voice. His words were like a slap to her face.

"How?" She screamed back at him, her own anger and fright rising. "I don't know what's wrong with him and I don't have any medical equipment! He needs IVs…" she touched his forehead. He was burning hot. "…and probably antibiotics too!" At that moment Michael stirred and made a quiet whimper of pain. Sara's heart constricted in distress and worry. "And painkillers." The last part was uttered quietly.

"I can't simply help him, not without any proper equipment!"

By the time she cried her last complaint, her hands were already skimming his body trying to find the source of his pain and discomfort. The car hit a bump and her hand unintentionally hit his upper thigh. He loudly cried in pain and she withdrew her hand immediately, apologizing in haste while still caressing his cheek. Then the thought hit her. _His upper thigh…the gash he gained when he was beaten up a few days ago. Dammit, how come it didn't cross her mind earlier?_ She slowly touched the hurt place again, feeling a large swollen bump. The wound was infected and filled with an unreasonable amount of puss. He was septic, the early stages of shock now all too evident.

"We have to get him to a hospital!" She cried again in despair.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Lincoln in concern, turning his head to glance at his brother. Jane's eyes were still trained upon the road. She couldn't afford the luxury to turn at the speed with which she was driving.

Sara wiped the drops of sweat from her own forehead. Her hands were slightly trembling as she felt for Michael's pulse again. It was so faint she barely recognized it in the moving car. They obviously got him out at the last minute, if it wasn't already too late. She felt like crying, but her eyes were focused on his handsome face, now contorted by pain and delusion, covered with sweat and dirt.

"He's septic. The gash on his thigh must have gotten infected. He's starting to show signs of shock. We've got to get him to a hospital! Please." She added desperately.

A simple but firm _"No!"_ came resolutely from the driver's seat. "The Company will wait just for that. There is a full medical kit in the house. You will have to patch him up by yourself." There was no room for discussion in Jane's voice and Sara understood there was no further chance she could persuade the blonde woman otherwise. She took a few deep breaths. Lincoln is right, she _was_ a fucking doctor and she knows what she has to do. She _has to_ know.

"What kind of medical kit?" Sara asked at last while still checking Michael's vitals. "I'll need a little more than a first aid kit, you know." She couldn't hold the sarcasm out of her voice. _Did they even know what they were asking of her?_

"No, it's a full medical kit. IVs, vials, antibiotics, gauze, anesthetics, all there." Sara slowly nodded. That was a start. She looked down at Michael, his head still resting in her lap. _God, how much more would he have to endure?_

Suddenly, Michael opened his eyes and for a split second, she thought he looked directly at her, but then she saw his eyes were still glazed over with a shadow of a fever and she knew it was just her wishful thinking. He didn't recognize her, he didn't recognize anybody. Sara gulped painfully, not daring to move so she wouldn't cause him any more additional pain.

"How much further?" she asked, knowing every minute counted now.

"Ten minutes." replied Jane, her eyes never leaving the road ahead.

Sara looked down at Michael's still form. He was mumbling something. "_Hush…_" She tried to soothe him. Or maybe she tried to soothe herself, she didn't know. "We are almost there. Just give me some more time and you will be as good as new, I promise. We have a date, remember?" She could feel a big lump forming in her throat and knew Lincoln's eyes were watching her – _them_ - in the review mirror. She couldn't care less. She bent over Michael's head, carefully kissing his wet forehead. _They were almost there._

Michael stirred a little and opened his eyes anew, a flicker of recognition shining in his eyes for the briefest of seconds, but then it was gone. He closed his eyes again. But it was nearly enough for Sara.

"Give me the bottle of water, will you?" Sara asked Lincoln already outstretching her hand, knowing her voice, as well as hand, were visibly trembling with emotion. She opened the bottle and nudged Michael as gently as she dared, then cradled his head raising it a bit, bringing the water to his lips.

"Here, try to drink this." Though his eyes stayed closed, surprisingly enough he obliged, swallowing a few gulps down his throat. Then he simply pressed his head back into her lap, turning and hiding his face into the soft, warm skin of her stomach; almost like a pet cuddling to his master. Surprisingly, he let out a sigh of content and Sara feared her chest might burst open. "_Almost there._" She whispered quietly while her free hand was drawing soothing circles over his cropped scalp, her mind already fiercely going over all the necessary steps that needed to be done in order to provide Michael with the best care possible. _Her best_ _care_.

She never before dreaded her task to take care of a patient more than now. She once again looked down into Michael's still face and motionless body, the swell on his right trouser now more evident than ever. She knew what needed to be done, but still, it didn't make the task any easier. While still caressing his cropped head, her gesture careful and affectionate, Sara suddenly realized she didn't want Michael in anyone else's care than her own. For she would do _anything_ that needed to be done in order to help him. For her, failure was not an option.

TBC

_Enjoying the ride so far?_


	14. First, do no harm

_Ok, so I had a little time spared and used it to write the next chapter of Fence Talks.I am updating rather quickly this time but well, do NOT get used to that. Lol. This was rather an exeption. :) Anyway, hope you will enjoy reading. _

_Huge thanks to **georgiaclaire**, who did the marvelous betta and who was so willing to do the corrections at all and this quickly. She is the one you guys should be thanking. I sure as hell, am. Thank you, Georgia. :)_

**CHapter14 - First, do no harm**

Sara pushed the door open to let the two men carring a half-conscious Michael rush into the single bedroom on the ground floor of the safe house. His breathing was heavily labored but shallow still, and when Lincoln and Sam lowered him onto the bed he was barely moving.

"Get me that medical bag!" commanded Sara to Jane while already heading to the bathroom in order to wash her hands.

From the next room, she could hear LJ's panicked voice. "Dad, what's wrong with Uncle Mike?"

While only half listening to the rushed conversation from the next room, Sara rolled up her sleeves and furiously scrubbed her arms up to her elbows. She only vaguely noticed the sharp pain with which the damaged skin of her arms protested the rough treatment.

Returning to the bedroom again, Sara was pleased to find a large medical bag already sitting on the nightstand. Jane was not present, the small space already too crowded with the presence of four people. Michael was sprawled on the bed, once again mumbling and stirring in obvious discomfort, and Sara didn't waste any time in snatching the bag open, withdrawing a pair of protective gloves and scissors. She handed the latter to Lincoln. "Here. Cut down his jeans, but be careful to touch as little flesh as possible."

Without giving Lincoln another glance, she searched through the bag further, sorting and cataloguing the contents. Confused with not finding what she was looking for, she hastily went through the contents once again. Behind her, Michael was softly crying out in pain when Lincoln clumsily cut through the dirty denim fabric covering his upper thigh.

''So sorry Mike." mumbled Lincoln over and over, although it was clear that the patient didn't recognize the people present, nor his surroundings. LJ stood frozen in place, shocked momentarily still at the sight of his sick uncle. It was only Sara's loud cursing that brought him from his reverie.

"What the hell is _THIS_?!" She snapped disbelievingly, rummaging through the contents of the medical bag furiously. Two IVs were already resting at the edge of the bed, along with strips of gauze and bandages. Yet obviously, something was missing. "There are no syringes or needles or fucking anesthetics here!" She cried in outrage. But before she could call out for Jane, she heard a loud '_Fuck!_' coming from Lincoln. First she thought something was wrong with Michael. But when her head turned around, she saw Lincoln glancing directly at her, his expression of shock and sudden horrid realization.

"What?" snapped Sara impatiently, then followed Lincoln's gaze from her to the medical bag and back. With a sinking feeling, she started to get the idea, but she wouldn't believe it until she truly heard him confess he was capable of doing something that stupid.

"I got rid of the needles and morphine when we first arrived here and Jane showed me the bag. I though..." He trailed off, unable to look at her.

_He had to be KIDDING her! This could not be happening._"What the hell do you mean by '_you got rid of them'_?" Shell-shocked, she stared at Lincoln in disbelief.

"I though it would be safer for you not have stuff like that lying around." He confessed and she felt like somebody just punched her in the gut with an iron fist. Next to Lincoln, LJ raised his hands to the head in panic, his fists grabbing his hair. "You can't be serious, dad! Uncle Mike needs them!"

_Exactly._ Sara felt a sudden urge of rage that only intensified at when a soft groan of pain escaped Michael's lips. "Why on earth didn't you tell me in the fucking car, Lincoln!?" she shouted, her expression livid. His face white, he could only reply softly. "_I completely forgot about that, I was panicking about Michael._"

She was speechless for a moment, then took a few deep breaths. _There has to be a solution to this. "_Where and how did you disposeof them?" She asked. "Are they still somewhere in the house?" Lincoln shook his head in denial. _Perfect! _Sara felt like strangling him. "LJ, go and fetch Jane." She ordered in the calmest voice possible, and the teenager left without any further question.

"Sara I..."

"Just shut up for now, will you?" She commanded again, though her voice had lost the great force it held only seconds ago. "I need to concentrate." She looked back at Michael, contemplating. Then she snatched a peace of paper from her backpack, starting to scribble on it feverishly. She was finished before LJ and Jane entered the room a moment later.

"Here." She showed the paper into Jane's hand who eyed the short list. "I need this within an hour. If you won't get it in that time, I am driving him to the hospital myself." Sara finished with no room for discussion, her eyes blazing.

It was unclear if LJ had already told Jane what had happened, but the blonde only nodded and put the piece of paper into her pocket. "I will do what I can." She cast a reproachful look at Lincoln. Obviously, LJ did tell her. Jane turned on her heel and left, already shooting commands at her men from the living area.

Sara turned to her patient again, the task lying ahead of her terrifying her now more than ever. They might be able to wait for the needles to arrive so she could connect him to the IV's, fluids and antibiotics, but they couldn't wait another hour for the infected wound to poison his body any further. Sara knew she needed to clean it right now, as soon as possible. Even knowing Michael's tolerance of pain to be higher than anyone else she had ever met, it would be sheer torture without any anesthetic. The pain and exhaustion of such which would only be adding more to his already overly weakened state.

She took a sharp intake of air, trying to steady her breathing and calm her nerves. "I'm going to need both of your help." Putting on her gloves, she shot a look at LJ. The young boy looked pale and frightened and suddenly, asking him for help didn't seem like such a good idea.

"You know what, LJ? Could you go and call one of Jane's men to come and help me?" She said kindly, knowing all too well that burdening the teenager with more traumatic experiences would bring no good for anyone. However, when she met his glance, he looked determined. "I can do it."

She hesitated. "It's going to be nasty and I am about to cause your uncle a lot of pain. I'm not sure you want to watch that." She said earnestly.

"I can do it." He repeated confidently and Sara's admiration for him grew.

"Ok." She said at last. She took out a scalpel and a handful of gauze strips from the medical bag while ordering Lincoln to bring a clean towel. Preparing the antiseptic and some other necessary intruments, she gestured LJ to come closer. "I need you to hold down your uncle's legs and under no circumstances let them go. He will probably kick and toss on instict when I'm cleaning his wound." LJ nodded.

Lincoln returned with a clean piece of thick cloth and following Sara's directions, slipped it under the infected leg. Michael stirred anew in discomfort, his face bathed in sweat. Sara instructed Lincoln to grab his brother's arms and torso, again asking him to hold him down while she would be cleaning up the wound.

She stepped over his body at last, her eyes for the first time fully studying the swollen bump on his leg. Pus and blood were all mixed up under the strained, almost transparent skin, and all of a sudden, Sara was not confident if she could do it. _Confident or not, she had no choice_.

She looked at his face, still contorted in pain and fever, feeling a strong urge to caress his cheek; kiss his pain away. "Michael, it's Sara. I am going to cut and clean your leg wound now. It will be painfull but it needs to be done, ok?" She said to him, although she highly doubted he could hear her, furthermore understand what she was saying. She tried anyway. "I will make a small incision to your leg to make a path for the pus to flow freely out." The explanation, she now realized, was directed more to her companions and herself than Michael. She had to somehow guide herself through this one alone.

She sprayed the flesh with an antiseptic and brought her slightly trembling hand to the wound, letting the scalpel hover over the place she was about the cut open.

First, do no harm.

She gulped and finally seized Michael's leg with one hand, bringing the scalpel down in the other to cutt his flesh open.

At first, it seemed Michael didn't even notice. She knew the cut wasn't a problem itself, but to squeeze out the infectious liquid would be the most painful part of this procedure. Michael's brow furrowed and he gave a little whimper, but otherwise he was still.

The pus started to flow right from the incision with almost violent force, the pressure of the swollen skin easing ever so slightly. A repulsive smell of decomposition filled the room and Sara almost gagged, but gathered all the self restraint she possesed. She took two square strips of gauze and started to gently dab at Michael's skin, wiping the dark yellow liquid from his flesh to get a better look of the now open wound. There was still lot of secretion left and Michael was already becoming restless, with even the gentlest of touches causing him to stir in pain and discomfort.

Sara didn't want to prolong the inevitable any longer. She pushed at both sides of the incision hard, squeezing the poisonous liquid out of the wound as best as she could. As expected, her action didn't remain without a reaction. Michael cried out in pain, his feverish eyes snapping open, his delusional mind trying to rid himself of the source of his pain. Sara saw that Lincoln and LJ had to use all their strength to keep Michael pinned against the bed while his cries of pain filled her head and tore at her heart, but she didn't stop. She pushed harder, forcing the stinking liquid and contaminated blood to flow faster, her sight momentarily blurring when her eyes filled with heavy tears. She quickly squeezed her eyes shut, willing them away. Instead, she grasped another bunch of gauze strips, using them to wipe and clean the wound and his skin as best and fast as she could.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Lincoln's posture crumbling and heard LJ gasping hard for air, but to their credit, neither of them wavered nor let go. She felt very sick herself, her mind unable to suppress the thought of the amount of pain Michael must have been in during the past few days, and now the pain she was inflicting upon him herself.

Michael's exhausting screams, so audible in the small room, slowly died down into a feverish delusional whimper for them to stop and God help her, she almost acquiesced to his faint begging for mercy. She could feel the despair rise in her chest, felt her stomach heave in protest at what she was doing, but she never stopped nor wavered in her proceedings.

Finally, she seemed to have cleaned the wound properly enough to start applying the antiseptic. Michael had quietened down, although Sara was unsure it was related to receding pain, but rather due to his exhaustion. She bit her bottom lip in order to stop it from trembling. They were almost there.

She started to cover the now clean wound with dressings soaked in antiseptic cream before carefully bandaging his whole upper leg. She could feel LJ and Lincoln's grip on Michael lessen. Both were panting, their faces ashen. Michael seemed to have fallen asleep, all the remaining strengh having left his body moments ago. Sara was more than glad for his sake.

She stood up and quickly started to collect the dirtied cloths and gauze strips and dressings, disposing of everything reminding her of the procedure she had just been forced to do. Only vaguely did she register LJ exiting the bedroom, the sounds of throwing up echoing through the house. She wasn't far from vomitting herself.

She snatched the gloves down from her hands, tossing them into the rubbish container along with the rest of the waste. It was only then she noticed her whole body shaking, small streams of cold sweat running down her face and spine.

She glanced at her watch. 30 minutes since Jane had left. Sara prayed she would be back soon enough. Michael needed those IVs and antibiotics more than anything, his body still seriously poisoned and weakened.

She looked into Michael's resting face. His brow was still furrowed, his expression one of residual pain and discomfort. She bent over and caressed the sweat away from his brow with her thumb. Her moving hand rested on his cheek at last, Sara not minding Lincoln's remaining presence in the room.

"Could you please bring me a bottle of water and a bowl of cool but not cold water? And a clean towel or cloth if you find one." Sara didn't even raise her eyes from Michael's face while talking. She was still too angry at Lincoln for the fiasco with the medical kit, but this was not the time or place to exchange harsh words. She felt a slight breeze of air when he exited the room and glanced at her watch again. Pressing the back of her hand to Michael's forehead, she grimaced in concern at his burning skin. Looking at her own bare forearms, sleeves being rolled up before the procedure, Sara only then remembered her own burned skin being exposed. Pulling the sleeves of her shirt down in a rush, she hid the burned skin still covered in tiny blisters.

She looked at Michael once again, wanting nothing more than to be able to lie down next to him and sleep for months. All the weariness of the previous days and nights came rushing back to her with a violent force and she had to grip the nightstand as her head momentarily spun.

She heard the door open again behind her, Lincoln entering with a bowl in his hand and a bottle under his arm. He handed both of them to Sara who gave him a small smile of gratitude.

"I called Jane. They are on their way. Should be back in less than 15 minutes." he announced quietly and Sara let out a deep breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Listen Sara, uhm, I..." Lincoln started anew but she silenced him by raising her hand resolutely. "Not now." It was not unfriendly, but still a rather cool proclamation and Lincoln understood the message for what it was, a dismissal. He directed his attention to his brother instead. "Is he going to be ok?"

"If Jane has everything I asked for and will be here on time, I hope so." She uttered quietly, absentmindedly stroking Michael's cheek, drawing soothing circles with her thumb. "Maybe you should go check up on your son, see if he is okay." Sara said, reminding Lincoln of LJ's unceremonious exit from the scene.

"Yeah. Are you going to be ok? What I mean is, is there anything else I can help you with?" He added hastily.

"No." She replied, her eyes never leaving Michael's face. "We are going to be fine."

Having asked Lincoln to send Jane straight to her when she returned, Lincoln began to leave the room in search for his son. In the door however, he stopped and turned back to Sara.

"Hey, Sara?"

"Yeah?" She turned her head in his direction at last.

"You did great today." He said and without waiting for an answer left the room. She turned to Michael again, whispering to his still form. "_God, I hope I did._"

She grasped the bottle of water and took a few deep gulps, trying to control her breathing in order to bring her pulse to a normal pace again. She contemplated for the shortest of moments trying to wake Michael and make him drink some water too, but then decided otherwise. He was probably not in the state for that right now and sleep would do him well. Jane should be back any minute now and then he would get all the fluids he needed intravenously anyway.

Sara put the bottle on the nightstand and took the wet cloth from the bowl, starting to clean, as well as to cool, Michael's scalp, face and neck. He looked more fragile than she had ever seen him before, the bruising and black eye he had a few days ago already changing their color into a lighter shade of yellow and green. She looked down his shirted torso and dragged the covers up over his bare legs. He had lost a lot of weight, and there were dark circles under his lids, his eyes almost disappearing in the hollow of their sockets. _God, the universe had a strange sense of irony. This was exactly what she wished so desperately for this very night, having him in her bed, half naked. But this wasn't what she had in mind. _

She tried to pull his shirt up, but then changed her mind. Taking the scissors, she cut it into pieces right there on his body, finally collecting the dirty shreds of cloth and tossing them away. Her movements never as much as caused him stir. She wiped his burning torso with the cool cloth, trying to clean as much dirt and grime as possible while all the same not disturbing him. The remaining bruising from the recent beating was even more evident on his chest than it was on his face, the patterns of the dark ink almost unrecognizable on the blue and purple skin. She squeezed her eyes shut then averted her gaze, tossing the disgusting remains of his shirt to the heap of shreded jeans on the floor. Collecting all remains of Sona that had been on him - excluding his boxers – from where they were lying on the floor, she tossed them in the trash.

Returning to her task of cleaning him up, she kept the covers firmly wrapped around his hips just at the border of his navel. Though they might be a pair - _of sorts_ - she still respected his right to privacy, knowing all too well its enormous value from having it not granted to her in the past days. When she wiped his wrist and then his hand, cleaning his fingers gently, she felt them instinctively curl around her own. His grip was stronger than she would expect and more welcome than she would ever dream. She squeezed back softly, bringing his knuckles to her lips to kiss them.

"You are going to be fine." Sara whispered. "_We _are going to be fine." She added with quiet determination.

TBC

_Your thoughts?_


	15. Unpredictable and Challenging

_Hey there! I know I am again, rather quick on an update, so I hope you guys like that one. ;) A huuuge thanks to __Alienmom, who did sucha marvelous job on this chapter, changing it into what it is not._

_Also, this chapter is dedicated to __Nicole a.k.a Mavoisine, who stepped over her shadow and faced her uneasiness and shyness, all in order to make me happy and show me I mattered to her, which means incredibly much to me. If I ever had any doubts about posting Nicole, you wiped them all away. :)Thank you._

**Chapter 15 – Unpredictable and Challenging **

It's been almost 6 hours since Jane came back with the medical supplies and Michael finally started to show signs of improvement. His skin had gained some color and his temperature had lowered significantly, causing the mumbling and delusions to stop. Adding a little bit of morphine, he was resting in a deep sleep, oblivious to the small figure curled in the heavy armchair sitting next to his bed, watching over his sleep but never closing her eyes, unable to sleep, though being unimaginably tired.

In the past 6 hours, Michael didn't wake once. Taking it as a natural and good sign, Sara wasn't bothered by that fact. Yet she was still restless, impatient to see him finally awake and see his eyes shining brightly at her once again.

It was late afternoon by now and she was alone. Joined by Lincoln or LJ occasionally, she never moved from his side, simply enjoying his - though unconscious - presence.

Sara rose from her armchair and exchanged the empty IV bag for a new one, and adjusted the antibiotic level. She walked over to the small window opening it to allow fresh air to flow freely into the room. The sun was slowly starting to set, the orange-crimson color of the sky breathtaking. She stood there for a moment simply enjoying the view of the sea, hugging herself protectively. She felt like she was able to breathe again, not realizing she had been, in reality, suffocating for the past few days…past few weeks even. Only now, compared to the feel of the salty sea air now flooding her nostrils did she realize she wasn't able to breathe openly for so long.

"Hey." A soft call came from behind her and for a second, she though it was Michael, who woke up from his heavy sleep, but the moment she turned her head she recognized the voice belonging to Lincoln.

"Hey." She greeted back, keeping her voice low not to disturb her sleeping patient.

"How is he?"

"Much better." She replied and flashed him a tired but accomplished smile.

"You are tired." He stated quietly.

"Yeah, you could say that." Sara answered with a weary laugh.

"Why don't you go and get some sleep? I will stay here with him." He offered and saw her hesitate.

"I'd rather stay, if you don't mind." She was not looking at him, her eyes shying away while she was nervously pulling at her sleeves.

"What happened to your arms?" Lincoln asked quietly, looking at Michael's still form rather than directly at her, giving her some space not to feel inquired or cornered.

She took her time answering. "Burned myself in the shower."

"Must have been one hell of a shower, causing blisters like that." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shift restlessly in her spot.

"I misjudged the hot-water tap. You surely noticed the almost boiling degree the water in this house can reach. I turned on the hot tap without checking the temperature first and burned my forearms. Pretty stupid, huh?" She gave a nervous mirthless laugh.

He was already opening his mouth to question her further, but then he shut it again. There was no point, she wouldn't tell him the whole truth either way. Both of them sat in silence for a couple of moments, watching Michael's sleeping form. The expression on his face changed over the past few hours, his features now showing peace and proper rest.

"Again, you did an amazing job today." Lincoln remarked, his eyes never leaving Michael's bed.

"Thank you." Her reply was less than enthusiastic.

"I am sorry I didn't tell you about the missing supplies."

"I know." She nodded. _Yet you are not sorry for disposing of them in order to stop a former junkie getting her hands on them._

"But you pulled it off anyway." There was a fair amount admiration in his voice. She could feel a rush of blood into her face and neck.

"Well, I wasn't too far from ending up like LJ. How is he, by the way?" Lincoln sighed. "I bit shaken. And I think also a bit embarrassed he puked in front of you." He added with a smirk. Sara smiled too.

"He is a sweet kid."

"Yeah." Lincoln sighed anew, his face growing solemn again. "Seen already too much for a kid his age." He replied bitterly and to his surprise could feel Sara's hand curling around his wrist. "He will get through it."

"I know." He was staring at her fingers, warm and soft against his rough skin, and then raised his eyes to meet hers. "_And_, he is quite fond of you." He continued shifting the mood to a lighter tone. With a broad knowing grin, he observed her eyebrows rising in surprise, her mouth shaping into a little _'Oh'_. "What makes you think so?"

"Well, firstly, he is a teenager and you are the hot girlfriend of his uncle…." Her eyes strayed instinctively to Michael's still form. "…so naturally, he has a crush on you."

Cheeks burning, a small embarrassed chuckle erupted from her. "And secondly?" she shot back playfully, enjoying the light exchange immensely.

"Secondly..." Lincoln continued with a sudden shyness bordering on embarrassment, "…he stood up for you, telling me I was a jerk when I was shouting at you those two days ago. Which, I have to admit, he had the right to do."

"Ahh…" quipped Sara in a small voice. The conversation was all of a sudden everything but light.

"I am sorry I doubted you…doubted that you were able to resist the urge to get a fix...that you might possibly fall into your old habits when confronted with the temptation…all of that." uttered Lincoln quietly. "It was arrogant and really stupid of me to interfere like that. Guess I judged you by what I might have done in your position. I was wrong about that and I am, once again, sorry."

His openness was honest and Sara decided to cut him some slack. "You know…" she started a bit hesitantly; "…my will wasn't that strong at all. There were times I almost gave in. Maybe more times than I'm comfortable to admit." She fell silent, her eyes drifting to Michael's peaceful face; finally here, safe, with her. _God, how she loved him. _The deepness of her feelings for him fulfilled as much as they scared her at the same time. All of a sudden, she felt like weeping. When she continued, her voice was slightly trembling.

"When you told me about the ruthless fight-or-die, I though I might just as well break right then and there."

"But you didn't." Said Lincoln kindly, trying to catch her eyes, which were still fixed upon his brother. She had a somewhat sad smile dancing upon her lips. "Yeah." she said at last, but there was little conviction in her voice.

"Sara, if there is anything you want to talk about..."

"There is not." She replied with haste, maybe too quickly cutting him off. "At least there isn't anymore." She added more gently, her eyes staring affectionately at his younger brother. Lincoln suddenly felt like an intruder. "When is he going to wake up?"

Sara pondered the question. "That is up to him. He could wake any moment now, or he may sleep through the night. Personally, I think he will wake in several hours. Depends on how much of a deep sleeper he is." She smiled a little, the thought of finding out if Michael was an - early or late - deep or light - sleeper for herself, suddenly filling her mind. She would hopefully find out soon enough.

"Why won't you take a break then? Stretch your legs, grab something to eat, get a cup of coffee." suggested Lincoln.

"I don't want him waking to a strange place alone." She quipped.

"I am here. Don't worry, I will watch over him." Said Lincoln kindly, yet she still hesitated. Knowing all to well she couldn't confess the embarrassing truth of wanting to be there personally when Michael firstly opened his eyes, she gave in. Loosing the inner battle with herself, she nodded unenthusiastically.

"I'll call you if he as much as blinks, don't worry." Smiled Lincoln reading her mind and she knew she was caught in the act. Without saying anything further, she retreated from the room, making her way to the kitchen. LJ and Jane were there, quietly chatting with each other. They raised their looks when she entered, silent questions hanging in their eyes.

"How is Uncle Mike?"

"Much better." Sara replied enthusiastically and flashed the boy a warm smile. LJ smiled back at her, happy sparkles dancing in his eyes. _God, he has so much of Michael in him, _she observed for the second time in two days.

While she poured herself an exceptionally strong cup of coffee – too strong even for her doctor-self – her eyes wandered back to the table accidentally and she noticed that Jane was studying her intently. It startled Sara, making her act self-consciously. She cleared her throat.

"Heard anything about the Company?" She asked casually while joining them at the table. Jane merely shook her head. "No. But I don't like it one bit. Something about the fact they weren't there today stinks to hell."

"How so? I thought the less you see of the Company the better." queried Sara, a feeling of uneasiness and a chill creeping into her belly. She wished she never asked.

Jane seemed to ponder over her question for a moment but then shook her head in dismissal. "Don't worry about it." She said reassuringly, giving a light smile. "I guess I'm just too cautious, that's all."

Sara nodded in understanding, but the tight chilling knots in her belly didn't loose up. She sipped at her coffee, hugging the warm mug in her hands using it like a heater.

"What will _you_ do, Sara?" asked LJ unexpectedly, causing Sara to snap from her reverie.

"What?" She blurted stupidly before she shook her head in a gesture of confusion. "Um…I'm sorry, I wasn't listening. Could you repeat that?" Her mind had problems with catching up, but the boy didn't seem to mind at all, giving her a cheery smile.

"We were talking about what we do when Uncle Mike gets better." He looked to Jane and back to Sara. "My dad wants to open a diving shop down here, in Panama. He said they wanted to do that with Uncle Mike for a long time, ever since the beginning of all of this. But that was before…" LJ broke off abruptly, his ears turning pink.

"…before _I_ joined the group?" finished Sara with an amused smile, LJ's stammering being rather cute, other than offending.

"Well, yeah." He admitted. "But that's a great thing!" He added hastily. "I mean, I really like you…well, I mean…_Uncle Mike_ likes you!" Sara's grin was spreading, especially when remembering Lincoln's previous words about his son. LJ's awkwardness was too sweet for Sara to resist the urge to taunt him a little more.

"Really?" She asked pretending surprise. "How do _you_ know?" The question was half-hearted, Sara's tone barely concealing mischief.

"He made origami for you, right?" LJ said quietly, his voice all at once serious. A sudden lump formed in Sara's throat. She had no idea how LJ could have known. As if sensing her discomfort, he hastened with an explanation. "I saw you holding an origami-shaped flower the day before yesterday. When you left the house for a walk."

"_Damn it, did everybody in this house follow her every fucking move?" _she groused_._

"Yes, he did." She confessed at last, her tone staying cautious while the lump in her throat tightened.

"As far as I know, you are the first one he ever made origami for, except for me and Dad, of course." Sara's breath hitched in her throat painfully. She tried unsuccessfully to gulp down the lump.

"As far as you know?" That was all she managed to squeeze through her lips, trying still to sound amused, although her attempted chuckle came out more as a nervous bark. LJ smiled broadly, his eyes showing mischief of his own. Jane stood up from the table, murmuring something about needing to discuss some security precautions with her men before excusing herself.

"When I was younger, I used to sneak up on Uncle Mike talking to my mom about women." His gaze darkened a little, a shadow of grief ghosting over his vision, but then it was gone in an instant, his smile growing again. Sara felt a strong squeeze of sympathy as well as admiration for the young boy, who she just realized wasn't a boy anymore.

"Anyway, let's say I learned _a lot_ from their talks." He smirked. "My mom always reprimanded Uncle Mike accusing him of being too picky where women were concerned. He always replied that the girl he was currently dating wasn't 'the right one'. When he was single, he always said he couldn't find anybody, the women he met at work or gym or some bar were always 'boring' and 'predictable'."

"_Predictable_?" Sara's eyebrows rose. LJ gave a hearty laugh.

"Yeah, he said he always knew what they were going to do or say, that most of them were all too easy to figure out." Sara smirked. "Like that time when he complained to my mom that he couldn't understand why all the girls _always_ said they had a headache when they weren't in the mood for…" at that place LJ stuttered, suddenly realizing to what end his story was heading. Sara felt her lips spreading brightly, a heady, almost giddy feeling rising to her head by discovering such indecent facts about the ever so polite Michael.

"…you mean in the mood for sexual intercourse?" asked Sara in a deep voice trying to mask the laughter that threatened to erupt and bubble from deep within her chest.

"…yeah, that one…" admitted LJ, his ears turning a fair shade of pink.

"What else did he say? Your uncle?" asked Sara enthusiastically, all of a sudden shamelessly curious, loving LJ for the wonderful source of information he was. LJ grinned back at her, all too happy to fill her in on some little known facts about his uncle while using the opportunity to skip quickly over the previous awkward moment. It was a win-win.

"Well, if I remember correctly, he always said he wanted to meet someone exciting and unpredictable, someone who would…wait what was the word? I remembered it because I'd never heard it before…oh, yeah; he said he wanted to date someone who would _challenge_ him." Sara stared at LJ in amusement as well as bewilderment. The meaning of his words as well as the level of precisely remembered memories he possessed was again, shockingly familiar. The boy continued talking, obviously having a good time reminiscing. "He said he also wanted someone who could make him laugh." Then, his face grew solemn at one particular memory. "But, what he wanted most, he always complained to my mom, was someone who wouldn't want him for…" LJ stopped abruptly, only now realizing he might be revealing all too much information about his uncle.

"Someone who wouldn't want him for what?" pressed Sara ever so slightly.

"Well…money." LJ quipped quietly, suddenly all too interested in his glass of juice. "You know…" he continued softly, "…back then, his career was on a fast track, he was a rising star in his field. He knew many women were attracted to him only because of his income and social status. His good looks didn't hurt, of course." He added with a small smirk.

Sara could feel her heart sink, something tighten inside her chest. She never knew this about Michael. She didn't know many things about him at all.

LJ didn't sense her change of mood because he was buried too deep in his own memories of happier times. He started chuckling unexpectedly, "You know, I remember him once saying he doubted any woman would throw him as much as a glance if he was a tattooed con with a rap sheet longer than his arm."

Sara's heart skipped a beat, a stab of pain shooting through her chest. _My God, Michael._ Her heart was all of a sudden too big for her chest. She felt like weeping. Her eyes instinctively wandered out of the kitchen and landed on the bedroom door, behind which, slept a brilliant, selfless, and most generous man she ever met. _A man who - my God! - went to prison for her, without as much as blinking. _

"So, as you can see, I eavesdropped a _lot_." Finished LJ a bit flustered. "I couldn't take much advice on women from my dad you know? So I tried to listen to Uncle Mike's experiences and opinions instead. Which, in the end, got me my first girlfriend by the way." He smiled proudly. Sara smiled back, but it was more a half-hearted painful grimace. She couldn't shake a sudden deep sadness that settled in the hollow of her heart.

"You all right?" asked LJ, concerned by her rather long silence.

"Uhm…yeah, sure, I am fine." She gave the young man a genuine smile. "Thank you LJ." replied Sara, hoping the earnest gratitude for his honesty reflected in her eyes.

"You're welcome." He smiled and Sara had the feeling that maybe he knew…understood… far more than he was showing.

"And that's how I know Uncle Mike likes you. You seem to have all the qualities he wished his girlfriend had. _Plus_, you helped my dad escape death row." He added more softly.

"Your dad was innocent." That was all Sara could manage to say, the lump in her throat preventing her from saying anything further.

LJ's expression changed. "Did you know?" he asked quietly. "When you helped them. Did you know my dad was innocent?"

"Yes." Sara nodded seriously. She instinctively reached out and covered LJ's hand with hers, not sure if the boy would withdraw from her touch or not. He didn't.

"I am glad Uncle Mike found you." He said and there it was again, the feeling of missing several steps at once. Her vision blurred. "I am glad I found your uncle."

Steps could be heard behind them and she turned her head quickly enough to see Lincoln enter the kitchen. "What's going on?" he asked with raised eyebrows, looking at their holding hands in question. "Everything alright?" he sounded a bit concerned.

"Yeah." Sara let out a long shaky sigh, flashing a broad smile first at LJ, then Lincoln. "Everything is fine." She patted LJ's hand gently and rose to her feet.

"I better check on how our patient is doing. Thank you for the talk, LJ." She said earnestly. "I really appreciated it."

"Anytime."

And she knew he meant it.

TBC

_Any thoughts you would like to share? Would love to hear them.  
_


	16. The Patient and His Doctor

**Story:** Fence Talks  
**Characters:** Sara Tancredi, Michael Scofield, Lincoln Burrows, LJ Burrows, Jane Phillips

**Pairing**: Sara/Michael  
**Genre**: angst, drama, romance, family, AU  
**Rating**: R (for strong language)  
**Word Count**: approx. 1800 words

**Chapter**: 16  
**Summary**: Michael is in Sona, but there is no Company deal required from him, Linc and Sara working together to get Michael out.

They are three desperate people who try to do anything to get a normal life together, and they do some so much needed talking along the way.

**Spoilers**: AU for S3 after the happining of 2x22 Sona.**  
****Warning**: And here w ego again, even this story has not been betaed, all mistakes, and I am sure there are plenty, are only mine, again. :) Hope you will enjoy reading nevertheless.

**Chapter 16**** – The Patient and his Doctor**

She slipped into the room soundlessly, closing the door behind her. She looked at Michael's sleeping form and something inside of her cracked. In the wake of her previous talk with LJ, he looked even more vulnerable than ever. She slid into the armchair once again, resting her head on the armrest, bringing her face as closest to his as possible. She covered her body with a thin blanket, her tiredness making her cold even in the hotness of the evening Panama. Taking Michaels hand in hers, she watched his chest rise and fall in steady, calming rhythms. Stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, she watched as mesmerized as the bruised chest rose and fell. Rose and fell, all in a calming, soothing manner. _Up and down, up and down_…

…_up and down_…

Something was tugging at her hand. It took her several moments to realize what was going on, what was happening. Wait, her eyes are closed. Had she dozed off? The tugging on her hand continued and she slowly opened her eyes to identify the source. She was hit by an ocean of blue pools boring into her. The still heavily tired eyes were despite their weariness shining with happiness and joy. It was then when she realized. Michael was awake. _God, the was finally awake. _

Her eyes wandered down to their joined hands where Michael's fingers still gently tugged on her own. She stared as if hypnotized, frozen to the spot.

"I am sorry for waking you. But I couldn't wait." The apology was less than a whisper, his voice faint and raspy. Still, what it lacked in strength it compensated in emotion. Her eyes rose to meet his again, her breath hitching in her throat. She couldn't get a single sound from her mouth. As if paralyzed, she was scared her voice might disrupt the fragile balance in the room.

"Hi." He whispered anew, giving her a look that made her want to crawl into the bed next to him and stay curled against his warm, protective body for the rest of her life.

"Hi." She replied instead, an unsteady heavy breath that ended with a little nervous chuckle leaving her lungs. As if the spell lifted with the sound of her own voice, Sara tried to stand up in one quick movement but almost tripping over her own legs, frozen from the uncomfortable position she's been keeping in the armchair for so long. Michael watched with quiet amusement as she steadied herself against the nightstand, flashing him a small, shy smile. In the end, she simply let her legs break underneath her, landing heavily on the edge of his bed. Still slightly smiling, she brought up her hand to his forehead in one professional movement to measure his temperature; then let it slide lower, cupping his cheek. He leaned into her touch – again, like a pet seeking comfort by its master – and closing his eyes; a deep sigh on contentment left his chest. The sound – so gentle yet deeply appeasing - caused Sara's chest to squeeze in a bittersweet ache and it was all she could do not to bent down and kiss him on the lips in a manner that would leave them both breathless for a long while. Again, she thought otherwise.

"How are you feeling?"

Opening his eyes again her sized her face up carefully. "Good."

"Any pain?"

"A little." He admitted reluctantly.

_God, the meds must be kicking in, he is actually telling her the truth._

"Where?" She inquired quietly, her thumb still stroking his cheek in a soothing manner.

"Mhm…leg." His voice still groggy but his eyes intently trained upon her face, Sara felt like being X-rayed and she couldn't help but squirm under his look.

"Yeah, that's ok. I am gonna increase your morphine level." She said and pushed the button of the IV to allow more morphine flow into his body.

"Is it going to make me black out again?" he asked and Sara felt all of a sudden almost giddily amused at the amount of regret clearly coating Michael's voice.

"I am afraid so." She remarked, giving Michael a warm smile, assuring him all would be just fine.

"You gave us a scare back there." She added with a more serious tone, her hand returning to rest on his face once again, her thumb massaging his whiskered cheek.

"Am sorry…." He murmured, the weariness getting to him at last.

"Don't be. No apologies anymore, remember?" She gave him a soft smile which he returned tenfold.

"Uhm…love…my…doctor." He mumbled with his eyes already closed, a soft smile dancing upon his lips.

"And your doctor loves _you_." She whispered back playfully, watching his eyes snapping open, looking at her. What she saw there made her heart swell, the pit of her stomach suddenly filled with restless butterflies. She slowly leaned forward planting a soft peck upon his lips, careful not to touch his sore upper body. He looked a bit startled by her sudden move, yet he didn't protest, and Sara couldn't do help the sudden urge to gave him another light kiss on the lips, to which he – this time - enthusiastically responded. A moment later, hovering just about his lips, she felt her own spread into a warm smile.

"I missed you." He whispered with his a voice still raspy, locking his gaze with hers and her heart almost shattered in a million of peaces at the tenderness as well as heartache. She closed her eyes, subconsciously licking her bottom lip, tasting the reminder of _him_. "I missed you too."

She planted another chaste kiss on his lips before withdrawing into a sitting position. She glanced at the nightstand. Almost midnight. She run her hands through her ruffled hair letting out a small nervous chuckle, all the time aware of him, intently watching her. Directing her gaze on the nightstand instead, she saw a bottle of water resting upon it.

"Do you want to have some water?" She asked and saw him nod before casting a longing look at the bottle.

"You know Michael, you could have asked sooner." She said conversationally while struggling to open the plastic bottle.

"There was another kind of…thirst…I needed to take care of first." He said hoarsely and she almost dropped the open bottle. _Not even five minutes awake and already flirting. Figures._

She grinned at him, trying to regain some of her composure. "Well, you will have to wait for that, Mr. Scofield. As your doctor, I strictly order you bed-rest." _That sounded worse than she planned. _She bit her lip, a sudden rush of blood staining her cheeks. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Michael's priggish grin.

"Bed-rest it is, _Doctor_."

_Damn, he just woke from a heavy medically induced sleep and was already capable flirting with her this shamelessly?_

She decided to better pass on his last comment, bringing the water to his lips instead. He took a few hasty gulps before she had the time to warn him to be careful and take it slow and as expected, he started to choke and spurt. She held his head with one hand while wiping at his wet mouth with a handkerchief with the other, yet couldn't help but grin smugly all the same.

"See? That happens when you don't follow your doctor's orders!" She set his head carefully upon the cushions again, checking the two IV's and dosage of medication.

"How…long…?" Michael asked in a feeble voice and Sara almost winced at his sudden weakness.

"…you have been out?" She finished his sentence, not wanting him to strain himself any further. He nodded.

"We brought you in this morning. It's around midnight now." She sighed, trying to sound casual. He grasped her hand when it was passing his own previously resting on the covers, bringing it to his lips and kissing her open palm.

"Thank you." He whispered in a tone that caused her to shiver.

"You are welcome."

They stared at each other for another moment; then she asked if he wanted to eat something. As she expected, he shook his head in denial, a slight grimace of repulsion at the very thought forming on his face. Sara smirked.

"I thought as much. But you should get some more sleep." She added more gently. Nodding slightly, the exhaustion and weariness was now all too evident on his face.

"Will you stay?" His voice was almost pleading, breaking her heart all over again. She sat down into the armchair, regaining her earlier position and laying her head on the armrest, she too his hand in hers.

"Blanket." He ordered quietly but firmly and she felt a sudden giddy urge to laugh. She picked the crumpled sheet from the floor and threw it over herself.

"There. Happy?" She shot at him playfully.

"More than I remember…in a long time."

Her heart squeezed anew. Before she knew it, she breathed those special three words anew.

"Mmm…love you…too." His eyes already closing, he fell into deep sleep immediately, his fingers firmly curled around hers. Observing him, the strangest breeze of sheer happiness and relief mixed together with a lingering trace of sorrow caressed Sara's heart.

She thought for a moment if she should go and summon Lincoln and LJ, but then chose not to. Michael was already asleep, finally getting his well-deserved rest. She would wait for a couple of minutes longer, marveling in the feel of his fingers entangled with hers, then she would set of and let the rest of the house's occupants know their patient had been awake and feeling fine. Only a few more moments of privacy, the universe owed them at least that much. Just a few more moments.

…_up and down…_

His chest was once again rising and falling in a soundless rhythm, his features calm and relaxed.

…_u__p and down…_

Just one more moment, the she would get up…

…_up and down…_

Just a single one…

…_up and down…_

Before Sara knew it she was dozing off again, her breathing adjusting itself to match Michael's in his sleep. The weariness of the past few weeks finally getting to her, she would sleep through the night dreamlessly, only to be awakened early in the morning by a strong but gentle hand on her shoulder, the older brother too impatient and anxious to know the news of his brother's recovery.

TBC

_Your thoughts?_


	17. The Burned Cook

_I know I had you all people waiting for a terribly long time, what can I say? I hope the chapter will say it all – that I am really sorry. Enjoy!_

_Thank you so much _jaded_chord_, for the marvelous beta, you are the best! I hope I didn't screw up much on some additional changes._

_Also, this chapter is for my darling _ladykaru_, who is currently struggling through semester finals and exams. Sweetie, I am completely convinced you will do well! *hugs you tight*_

**Fence Talks – The burned cook**

The room was dimly lit, yet soft sunlight was streaming through the half-closed blinds when Michael woke up again. Mind clouded and thoughts fuzzy, for a long moment he wasn't sure where he was or what he was doing there. Then he remembered at last - he was _out_. His eyes fell on the empty armchair next to his bed, a blanket haphazardly thrown over the armrest.

His eyes started to search the room, narrowed by the unusual amount of light. At last, he found what he was searching for - a figure leaning leisurely against the frame of the half-opened window. Sara's back was facing Michael, and she looked deep in thought, not hearing the subtle rustle of the bed sheets. For a moment, Michael simply took in her very presence, something he had been denied for so long. His eyes adjusted, he started to notice the tiny details about her. She had a mug in her hands, lightly pressed against her belly, the side of her head resting against the frame of the window. Her hair was like liquid copper, falling down to her shoulders, looking warm and soft and fragrant. And yet, she looked distinctly tired. Her shoulders were slumped, and her head was leaning maybe too heavily against the frame. Whether her eyes were closed he couldn't tell, yet she very well could have been dozing.

His heart missed a beat at that thought; he could only imagine what she had been through in the past few days. What he knew about her so far, they weren't filled with much sleep. At least not since his rescue, this he was sure of.

Michael contemplated how to make her aware of his presence without making her feel like she was being watched first. In the end, he went for the lamest thing that popped into his head first, too tired to come up with a more witty remark.

"Good morning," he said in a voice that still sounded raspy and rather weak. She was startled momentarily, then turned in her spot, a gorgeous, happy smile forming on her lips the second she spotted him.

"Well, it's more like afternoon already. Do you always sleep this late?" she asked ungluing her frame from the window and slowly making her way towards the bed, putting the mug soundlessly on the table in the process, unaware Michael watching her every move.

He grinned in return. "I guess you'll have to find out yourself."

Her smile grew, a knowing smirk settling on her lips while she shook her head slightly. When she reached the bed at last, her face grew more serious. "How are you feeling today?" she asked and hovering over him, she brought her hand up, caressing his forehead lightly, trying to asses the level of his temperature.

"Much better," Michael answered earnestly, his tone gentle. He knew how much she craved honest answers, and there was no reason to deny her this any longer.

"Good," was her only reply, her hand sliding lower, cupping his cheek and caressing it with her thumb softly, her look however, staying pensive.

"Your brother and LJ were here earlier while you were asleep. They're anxious to see you awake," said Sara lightly, a soft smile touching her lips at Michael's hand slowly sneaking down the mattress and taking hers, their fingers instantly intertwining.

"Just five more minutes," asked Michael with a light smirk, his eyes darkening and piercing all of a sudden. Like she has just been hypnotized, Sara could only nod, her eyes never leaving his as her legs slowly buckled beneath her and she quietly sat on the mattress next to his still form.

A memory crossing her mind, a slow grin spread across her face. "You know, that's _exactly_ what I was telling myself last night, right before I dropped dead in that bloody armchair," she said knowingly, throwing the incriminating armchair a little half-hearted scowl.

Her attention soon returned to her patient, however. "Are you thirsty?" she asked, remembering he hadn't had a proper drink in quite a while. Nodding silently, he let her unscrew the lid of the same bottle he drank from just the night before, then bring it to his lips, her hand coming to support the back of his head.

He took a few gulps. The cool liquid gliding down his throat felt divine, causing his eyes to flutter shut. When he opened them again, he was met by two hazel pools that shimmered with such a huge level of relief and gratitude that must have resulted from at least a couple of worried, sleepless nights. There was something in her look, something that obviously burdened her mind and already burned her tongue yet she was battling the thought of actually telling him. Then it fell from her lips in a quick, desperate rush.

"My God Michael, you got me so scared…" she said out loud before her voice failed her and two big unexpected tears fell from her eyes. Immediately, Sara squeezed her eyes tightly shut, her hands clenching into tight fists. Pursing her lips and trying to control her breathing in an attempt to compose herself again, she could only lean into Michael's touch, as he raised his palm to cup her cheek.

"I know. And I'm sorry…" he started, but she was already shaking her head. "It's not your fault," was all she managed to whisper in return, bringing her own hand up to cover his. She gave a deep shuddering sigh, then she opened her eyes again, only to be greeted by a saddened yet still glorious smile she had so feared she would never see again.

A twinkle appeared in Michael's eyes after a moment or two. "Would a kiss help to make you feel better? It sure would work for me," he offered innocently, taking Sara a moment to realize he was cracking a joke just to make her feel better. It did. She gave a little barking laugh and shook her head, a smile gracing her features.

"I'm sure it would," she replied at last, a matching mischievous twinkle appearing in her own eyes, a light smile dancing over her lips.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Just offering my services, that's all." She gave another small laugh, her cheeks flushing with delight at the familiar banter. He couldn't believe how beautiful she looked when she smiled. It was definitely something worth of making himself a fool for. Her cheeks flushing, head bend down trying to hide her smile, she never looked more beautiful to Michael.

"You look beautiful." He didn't even notice that he was thinking out loud, his voice acting on its own accord.

Her lashes fluttered shyly, yet another appreciative grin spread across her face. "You're a liar," she stated with a sharp look, but still closed on to him, brining her lips to brush against his in a short lingering kiss. She didn't plan for her lips to stay on his for more than a second, but God, it felt so damn good and warm and welcoming, she couldn't bring herself to pull away. Her heart leapt with joy in her chest, suppressing all her rational thoughts – _any_ thoughts whatsoever – from her mind. It seemed Michael and her shared a same mind on this, for the kiss soon deepened, causing Sara to let out a moan. That was all the encouragement Michael was waiting for and he grasped her shoulders gently, gliding his hands down her shoulders, pulling her down closer to him. But when his hands reached her forearms, she gave a sharp hiss of pain, causing him to let go instantly.

"What's wrong?" he asked in panic, worried that he might have gotten too carried away to hurt her in some way.

Sara cursed inwardly. "It's nothing…" she said sounding casually, trying to dismiss the subject yet seeing she was failing miserably. Without any warning, Michael took her hand in his and before she could even start to realize what he was doing, he was carefully yet firmly pulling up her sleeve. His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of the red, raw blistered skin of her arm.

"How did this happen?" he breathed shakily, his eyes so piercing, pleading - _demanding_ -for an answer, that she had no choice but to be honest. She rolled up her second sleeve as well to reveal both of her burned arms. She could see the shock and worry in his eyes.

"It looks worse than it actually is," said Sara softly. He gave her a doubtful look.

"How?"

"I accidentally burned myself in the shower," she confessed with a shrug. Her eyes evaded his at first but then returned to look at him again. She wanted him to believe she was telling him the truth. "The water here is sometimes unpredictable and I switched on the hot tap before realizing the water would actually be boiling." She finished steadily, her eyes unwavering. She could see the doubt in his eyes, as well as the fear that she was lying to him. It annoyed her slightly yet she knew his intentions were good. She needed him to understand.

"Michael," she addressed him steadily, "It was just a mistake, simply an accidental, stupid mistake. You can ask Lincoln if you like, he will confirm what I say, the water regulation in this house is simply _awful_." Noticing him still gazing at her burned skin, Sara slowly pulled down her sleeves to cover her burned arms again. Bringing her hand to cup his cheek, she gently but firmly guided his face until their eyes met. She saw confusion and hesitancy and _guilt_ and it almost made her sick.

"I am _not_ lying to you Michael," she declared steadily, her eyes burning into his. She saw a deep emotion shift in them, his eyes literally pleading with her.

"There is something important I am about to tell you now, okay?" he nodded silently, his eyes never leaving hers now. "I want you to know Michael, that I will _never_ lie to you." Her thumb was grazing the stubble on his cheek, creating a soothing pattern that made him close his eyes for the shortest of moments. "Do you believe me?" she pressed in a whisper, her voice despairingly pleading yet urgently convincing at the same time.

He took his time to answer but he nodded at last, letting out a deep breath he didn't know he was holding before he could stop it. He gave her an apologetic look. "I believe you Sara. God help me, but I believe you with my life. It's just…"

"I know," she intervened hurriedly, her heart splintering in her chest at his words. "But there is nothing to be worried about." _And there wasn't really, was there?_

"Does it hurt much?" he asked, focusing his eyes on the covered arms again, aware of how stupid his question must have sounded but wanting to know the answer anyway.

She smiled gratefully, relieved to be back on safe ground with him again. "It hurts like hell," she admitted with a light smirk, giving him a knowing look. "But what concerns me most now is that unbearable itching that just started," she said feigning annoyance, yet it was clear from the twinkle in her eye she couldn't care less. He was here, he was alive, and that was all that mattered.

She rose from where she was sitting on the bed and bend over Michael's form, kissing his forehead before turning and heading for the door.

"Hey," Michael protested, "where are you going?" He almost winced at the neediness in his voice, yet Sara just turned around with a light smile. "Just calling your brother. He will bite my head off if I won't call him this time around."

With her hand on the doorknob she stopped however, a thought suddenly occurring to her.

"Michael?"

"Yes?" he asked curiously, his eyebrows rising slightly.

"Are you by any chance hungry?" Asked Sara carefully and there was something that could only be described as a cute shyness in her question. He nodded, only too curious to find out what was behind her statement.

"Fine. I'll bring you a bowl of soup then." She said casually, but her cheeks flushed involuntarily.

At that moment, it all fell into place and a cat-like grin spread across Michael's face. "Sara Tancredi, did you _cook_ for me?" He asked, not able to wipe away the smug grin off his face.

She only turned a deeper shade of red. Giving a small cough and not looking at him, she quipped, "I hope you like poultry," before turning the knob quickly in her hand.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her cuteness. His features softened then and he gently called after her, stopping her already in the door. "Hey Sara?" She turned expectantly.

"I do," he confirmed, explaining after seeing her puzzled look. "Poultry, I like poultry." She gave a small grin and was about to leave, when he stopped her one more time. "And Sara," he waited for her to look at him, "…I think cooking for me might be the most romantic gesture anybody has ever done for me." He said with a smile, yet his eyes were grave. Deep inside, he knew that however pathetic it might be, it were the truth. And despite feeling slightly embarrassed about it, it was one of the little facts about his past he never had the chance to share with her before. And after Sona, he was done with withholding and waiting and postponing.

It was Sara's turn to be surprised, her features stilling in honest disbelief. "Nobody _ever_ cooked for you?"

Michael only shrugged. "Apart from my mom and later Lincoln, nope, no one. Besides, all Lincoln could ever cook were pancakes anyway," he added, a genuine smile returning to his lips.

Sara smirked. "That's actually wonderfully convenient. At least you won't get the chance to compare," she said cheekily before disappearing out the door, leaving Michael's face lit with a huge grin.

TBC

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	18. Secrets and Lies

**Story:** Fence Talks  
**Characters:** Sara Tancredi, Michael Scofield, Lincoln Burrows, LJ Burrows, Jane Phillips  
**Pairing**: Sara/Michael  
**Genre**: angst, drama, romance, family, AU  
**Rating**: R (for strong language)  
**Word Count**: approx. 2100 words  
**Chapter**: 18  
**Summary**: Michael is in Sona, but there is no Company deal required from him, Linc and Sara working together to get Michael out.  
They are three desperate people who try to do anything to get a normal life together, and they do some so much needed talking along the way.  
**Spoilers**: AU for S3 after the happining of 2x22 Sona.

_A huge '__**thank you**__' to_jadded_chord_, who did this wonderful beta, as always. Any remaining mistakes are mine. :)_

**Chapter 18 – Secrets and Lies**

Not more than two minutes after Sara had left, the door burst open and the frame of a huge man waltzed into the center of the room, stopping at the foot of Michael's bed. Smiling broadly, happiness radiated from Lincoln's every pore.

"Mikey, hey! How are you?" beamed Lincoln, and bending over Michael's half-sitting body, he brought his hand to the top of his head, pretending to rustle Michael's shortly cropped hair. Losing his battle with feigning annoyance, Michael's lips spread into a huge grin. Lincoln's smile was contagious.

"Hey Linc, glad to see some things never change," commented Michael with a pointed look, his eyes on the shards of a vase that Lincoln unintentionally knocked over from a nearby cabinet in his hurry through the door.

Lincoln waved his hand, still grinning. "Broken stuff's supposed to bring luck. But if you insist, I'll buy you a new one."

Michael shrugged. "Wasn't mine. Oh, and where's my favorite nephew?"

"You mean your _only_ nephew? He's on the phone with his girlfriend." Catching Michael's surprised look, he nodded with a grin, "I know, I didn't know myself until he flew in. Obviously, his new school wasn't wonderful only due to academic opportunities."

The brothers shared an amused look. "Don't worry though, I'll send him right in after he finishes his call. If you're lucky, you'll be a father yourself by then," finished Lincoln dryly, enjoying Michael's huge smile.

His features growing serious, the older brother sat down in the same armchair that Sara was sleeping in the night before. "Now seriously, how are you feeling bro?" he asked, eyeing the half-empty IV suspiciously.

"Far better, thanks. Sara must have worked some of her best magic," replied Michael with a sigh, his gaze following Lincoln's to the IV. "I don't remember much from when you brought me in…" continued Michael tentatively, "but I guess I was in a pretty bad shape." Looking directly at Lincoln and searching his eyes for something Lincoln couldn't put his finger on, he couldn't help but evade his eyes under Michael's piercing look. Instead, Lincoln shifted his gaze to Michael's injured leg, now comfortably resting under the covers.

"It was a close call," he admitted at last, his face clouded by the memory of a non-responsive Michael, begging them to stop hurting him. "I'll be honest with you Mike, if we didn't have Sara…" he didn't need to finish his sentence, for it was Michael's turn to look away.

"She was truly amazing. I mean, man, what she was capable of…under such circumstances…your wound…I was scared shitless and I know I would never have the guts to do what it took to make you better," said Lincoln with a fair amount of disbelief and awe in his voice before noticing Michael's troubled and guilty expression.

"What's the matter?" asked Lincoln, sensing Michael's inner battle.

"Her arms are burned," Michael finally confessed in a soft, slightly trembling voice, unable to stop himself from sharing this particularly pressing piece of information.

Lincoln's face turned guarded, yet he slowly, carefully nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"You do?" The surprise was evident in Michael's voice.

"Yeah, I saw them when she had to roll up her sleeves to treat you. She later told me she burned them in the shower."

Michael only nodded, his eyes still averted. Knowing very well that what he was about to ask his brother would sound like a betrayal to both of them, he still couldn't stop but ask, the seed of doubt eating him alive. "Do you believe her?" he asked Lincoln.

He could see the comprehension dawn on his brother. And for Lincoln, this conversation all of a sudden turned into something he didn't expect to discuss this early after his brother awoke.

"You _don't_?" he asked with raised eyebrows, returning Michael's question with a question. He could sense Michael's discomfort about discussing his doubts regarding Sara's honesty, as well as privacy.

"I do! I mean …I want to," Michael said quietly, a deep level of shame shading his voice. Taking a short pause between voicing his concerns to his older brother, he fidgeted with his fingers, his hands restless in his lap. It took a short moment before he continued. "I know she wouldn't lie to me...but I also know she would want to protect me."

A silence hung in the air between the brothers - one feeling concerned and guilty for doubting the woman he loved, the other feeling ashamed for keeping several grave facts from his brother, afraid Michael would ask the right questions soon enough anyway.

In the end, Lincoln decided to support Sara's explanation. Though not completely convinced she was telling them the truth, Lincoln knew he owed her at least as much as backing her up. "I think she told you the truth. And it's true that the water heating system is crappy in this house, I've nearly burned myself a couple of times, so it wouldn't come to me as a surprise if Sara did."

Michael looked relieved at his brother's words, all the air in his lungs leaving in one long, slow breath. He nodded soundlessly, adding a silent "thank you" for his brother.

"Anytime, bro."

Michael chose to change the subject, his voice regaining some of its strength and confidence. "So…how have you guys been? Anything interesting happening around here? Everything okay? No sight of The Company?" he asked, firing off the questions like a speeding bullet. Lincoln relaxed slightly, knowing this subject offered more positive news to his troubled brother.

"To everybody's pleasant surprise, it's pretty quiet around the Company. Let's hope it'll stay that way. But for now, we're pretty safe. Incredibly enough, even Jane looks relaxed. She let her guard down a fair amount and she even smiles from time to time. Didn't know she could do that, but I guess that's as good of a sign as any."

Michael nodded again, a wide, genuine smile slowly spreading across his face while he relaxed into his pillows. The Company and their outstretched clutches, always ready to strike, was one of his biggest worries, so it felt good to hear such good news.

"So…you and Jane…do you two have something going…?" asked Michael with obvious interest, a hint of mischief in his voice.

Lincoln gave him an amused look. "Don't you even dare go there," he warned, causing Michael's grin to spread.

"I won't, you just answered my question," he replied, feigning a defensive manner, all the while enjoying Lincoln's frustrated battle of whether to tell his brother off or not. There was a moment of comfortable silence between the brothers, before the mood grew heavy again.

"How…" Michael started carefully, once again feeling uneasy about being so narrow-minded where one special person was concerned, "…how did Sara pull through all of this?"

Lincoln sighed heavily. "To be honest with you Mike, I don't have the slightest idea."

"What do you mean?" asked Michael slowly, his tone guarded. His eyes narrowed, he was studying Lincoln closely.

"I mean that she didn't confide in me," answered Lincoln loudly, a trace of annoyance coating his voice. Then, with a more measured tone, he added, "I guess it wasn't easy for her, it wasn't for any of us. The news about the fight…it freaked her out. She kinda closed up, and since then, has been a closed book to me until…well, until now."

Lincoln saw his brother's mood darken, some uncharacteristic anger flicking like a shadow in his blue eyes. "But you're here now, alive and well, and everything is going to be okay again. Whatever happened in your absence, it doesn't matter anymore. It's over and you're back with us. You and Sara are going to be okay, alright?" finished Lincoln, trying to sound convincing, but it was the slight rocking of his body that gave him away. If he didn't know better, Michael would have thought his brother was drunk. And he wasn't one to be sweet-talked either.

"What do you mean by _whatever happened in my absence_? _What_ happened, Linc?" Michael's words were spoken quietly, the deadly calmness being more menacing than any loud shouting ever could. Lincoln only then realized too late that he had approached the subject from the worst angle possible. But before he could come up with any reply, help came once again in form of Sara standing in the door, balancing a tray of food in front of her, smiling broadly at the two men before stepping further in the room. Sensing the tense atmosphere, her smile wavered a little.

"Everything alright?" she asked with a hint of suspicion in her voice, eyebrows raised.

"_Yeah_," said both men in unison, neither daring to look at her directly. She was slightly taken aback, but recovered quickly. Putting the tray on the bedside table, she helped Michael sit up properly, making sure the cushions were safely supporting his back while stabilizing the tray of food over his lap. Instantly, Michael couldn't help but inhale deeply. Only now did he realize how hungry he really was.

"Smells wonderful," Michael said to Sara, who only replied with a shy smile. She was biting her lip involuntarily, giving away her nervousness.

"You must be mad hungry, bro. I sure would be," Lincoln assured them good-naturedly, a content atmosphere magically returning to the room with Sara's presence, she and Lincoln both silently watching Michael eat, cracking a joke here and there about the speed with which he was wolfing down the hot soup. The bowl was empty within a few minutes, and a satisfied, lazy grin settled on Michael's face. His belly full, and his loved ones safe and in the same room with him, Michael couldn't help but think that if he were to die right now, he would die a happy man.

His eyelids felt heavy again, yet he tried to battle sleep, wanting to enjoy the moment just a little longer. Only LJ was missing, yet the knowledge of his nephew, cheerfully talking over phone with his _girlfriend_ only a couple of rooms away, made Michael feel light as a feather, something he never thought would be possible again.

"You should get some rest," suggested Sara kindly, patting his arm, noticing Michael's fierce but unsuccessful battle with his fluttering eyelids.

"You should get some rest too," he replied softly, his eyes fixing on the dark circles under her eyes. She gave a tired smile. "I mean it," pressed Michael, stopping Sara by gently reaching for her arm while collecting the tray and fixing her with a stern look.

She shook her head in disbelief at his persistence, a knowing smile dancing over her lips. "Only the first day awake and already commanding people. Jeez, cut me some slack, Michael," she grumbled half-heartedly, quickly removing the tray from his lap. Already about to leave, Sara was stopped by a gentle tugging at her hand, her concentration once again returning to Michael and the soothing patterns his fingers were making on her skin.

"Thank you," he murmured gently, his tone serious enough to make her shiver despite the heat.

"You're welcome," was her only reply, her eyes still fixed on him. It was obvious he was waiting for something else, a kiss maybe, yet with Lincoln right there in the room with them, she felt a sudden rush of shyness, almost bordering on frustrated and slightly annoyed discomfort. Therefore, she only gave Michael a short smile before leaving the room.

A puzzled look settled on Michael's features. Something in her demeanor didn't seem quite right, but he let it go for now. He returned his look to his brother, all of a sudden fully awake and eager to finish their previous conversation. Before he could even start the first sentence however, Sara's head popped into the room again, softly calling out to Lincoln.

"Could I speak to you for a minute?" she asked politely, yet her tone was commanding. Again, Michael felt a strange shift of mood in the room.

"Yeah, sure," Lincoln nodded, clearly puzzled himself, but he got up immediately and followed Sara out of the room. He stopped at the door, turning his head to Michael. "Get some rest bro, alright? Don't worry, we'll still be here when you wake up."

With that, he walked out of the room, leaving a restless Michael with a strong level of curiosity and confusion that made him extremely fidgety in his bed, unable to rest and free his mind and heart of a deep-seeded feeling that something was wrong. It was more of an intuitive feeling, but Michael was almost certain it was something between his brother and Sara. And God, he desperately wanted to know _what_. Setting his mind on the fact that he would ask Lincoln about it as soon as he got he opportunity to speak with him again, he finally let sleep overcome his tired senses.

TBC

_Share your thoughts. :)_


	19. Alone in a Crowd

_Huuuge thanks to _eight8toes_ aka Daphn__ée__ for the great and prompt beta work. All remaining mistakes are mine._

**Chapter 19 – Alone in a crowd**

They stepped outside the room, Sara quietly shutting the door behind them. She led Lincoln a bit further from the bedroom and into the main living space that was currently empty. As she turned her body towards him, Lincoln was surprised to find Sara's angry hazel eyes staring at him. Without preamble, Sara started talking quickly, her voice fierce but quiet, almost hissing, minding their surrounding and people always lurking nearby.

"What did you tell him?"

Lincoln was taken aback, surprised about Sara coming out this flippant and irritated all of a sudden. He gave her a somewhat confused look that only seemed to deepen her frustration and agitation with him.

"Don't play dumb with me Lincoln, I know what I saw. You two were talking about something and you stopped the moment I stepped into the room. The only reasonable conclusion is that you were talking about _me_. So I'm asking again, what did you tell him?"

Lincoln was still gazing at her, somewhat startled, but comprehension was finally starting to dawn upon him. She expected from him to tell her what he and Michael had been talking about, her arms crossed over her chest, a demeanor telling him how angry she must be with him.

"We just…talked," stated Lincoln dumbly, before reading in Sara's widening eyes that this explanation wouldn't be sufficient, _not_ _at all_. He felt his own anger towards her behavior rising, then decided to be honest, and without sugarcoating it, he told her the truth.

"He asked me how you were holding up since the past couple of days and if you were alright. He told me he saw the burns on your arms and asked me if I knew how that happened."

Something resembling betrayal and hurt flickered through Sara's eyes, gone before he could brace himself from it, quickly replaced by a renewed wave of anger. Taking one step back, Sara drew a deep shaky breath, her eyes roaming the walls momentarily.

"So? What did you tell him?" Sara asked, her tone icy, preparing herself for a battle Lincoln wasn't issuing and once again, he felt his temper rise. Feeling like he was being questioned like a small boy, he hated the look Sara was giving him. It was one of those 'Lisa-looks'- as he used to call them – those his ex-wife always gave him when he did something wrong, like bringing LJ home too late from a ball game or forgetting to send the alimony on time. And with all respect to Lisa, he had always _hated_ that look. Only now did he realize it weren't just a specific look Lisa used to give him, but a scornful look of great disapproval all women had.

"I told him you were fine, so stop acting like a fucking inquisitor! What did you expect from me anyway? Should I have walked out on him the moment he asked a question about the woman he cares about?" the tone with which he snorted the last few words sent an involuntary chill down Sara's spine.

"Oh, and by the way, I backed you up on your silly 'burned-arms-in-shower' story as well, so you are welcome," he concluded, literally spitting the words, surprised with himself by the level of his anger. She seemed to be surprised at his loud and mocking voice too, for she opened her mouth slightly, yet for a moment, not a single word left her lips. After a beat however, she seemed to have recovered, the flame of fury once again igniting her eye, despite her tone being dead calm, a coat of icy frost lilting her voice.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Well Sara, I simply don't buy your 'accidental shower burns' story, and I would bet my last five bucks that Michael doesn't either. Despite his will to trust you, I could see he simply did not buy such a Mickey Mouse explanation," grumbled Lincoln, watching Sara's face pale. With a more measured voice, he continued calmly, realizing too late he had crossed a line with Sara, _again_. His tone gaining a kinder tint, his eyes softened at the look of the pale, tired and exhausted woman in front of him.

"I know you are just trying to protect him Sara, yet Michael is going to catch up with any lies or half-truths you might try to feed him quickly – trust me, _I know_ - and only then will he start asking the _really_ sticky questions. Lying to him will only bring us so far, so when he asks again, we will have to tell him the truth."

"What are you talking about, what _truth_?" snapped Sara, outraged, the latter word falling from her lips like liquid contempt, "are you accusing me of being a liar too, on top of being an untrustworthy addict who doesn't deserve your brother? We've been there before Lincoln and I thought we've cleared the air about that one, but obviously, we're back to the accusations all over again. You are one piece of work, you know that Lincoln?"

They stopped for a moment, both realizing at once that this conversation had gone far beyond anyone of them ever wished, and both of them drew a few labored breaths in order to calm down. With her hands resting on her hips, Sara started anew. Knowing she had cut too deep by repeating and thrusting Lincoln's own words of rage back into his face, she knew she had to choose a different approach. This time and more calmly, she tried to win Lincoln over with reason rather than accusations.

"Lincoln, do you realize what your brother has been through?" she asked with her voice softening, coating with care and worry at once, "From what we've heard about that…_place_, we have no idea what happened to him in Sona,", her voice trembled for the shortest of moments before she continued, "and what physical and predominantly _emotional_ burden your brother might have brought back with him. I know he might appear okay right now, but I've seen enough in my career to know that once the physical stress and injuries start to heal, the far deeper, emotional scarring, starts to find its way to the surface. And Michael, despite his brilliance, is no exception. We have no right whatsoever to worry him, on top of all of that, with our own issues. We need to help him, not lean on him for support." She swallowed hard, her eyes slightly reddening with the effort to repress her tears, "All I'm asking is to let the medical decisions to me," she pressed urgently, her words coming in soft pleas to him, despair dripping from each one of them.

"He is not stupid Sara," commented Lincoln through a deep sigh, shaking his head in disapproval, never minding her pleading look, "he _will_ figure out we are not being honest with him. And trust me, once he does, it will upset him and cause even more damage than if we tell him the truth about what happened in his absence."

It was Sara's turn to shake her head, almost in stubborn denial, and Lincoln could see her close up again - like she had so many times over the course of the past few days. Her eyes fixed upon the carpet, she took a couple heavy breaths before stating quietly but resolutely.

"And what exactly do you want to tell him? That we've been fighting and shouting and biting each other for the past few days? Is this really the message you want to pass over to your brother, now that he has sacrificed so much for both of us, while all he asked in return was nothing more but to support and look after each other?" she shook her head again, "This is not just your decision, Lincoln. It's my call too, and in Michael's best interest, I decided that we are not to burden him with what's been going on here while he was in Sona. There will be time for that later, so _no_ storytelling about my burns anymore, nor about my nearly relapse with the scotch or my unusual sleeping patterns. Not to mention that those are my _private_ issues anyway, it's not in Michael's interest to drive himself crazy over them."

Stumbling upon a particularly angering memory of their past few days, she couldn't help but add; "and there will also be no talking about your stupid secretive actions with plundering the medical kit that could have cost your brother's life, nor how you lost your temper the other night with me…" she took a deep breath, her voice gaining a more painful lilt, "…or how we obviously cannot agree on a _single_ thing regarding your brother. We both know it would break his heart." There was a moment of silence, before Lincolns words - however quiet - cracked through the air between them.

"Are you truly doing this only for the sake of Michael's inner peace Sara, or is it for your own?"

It was out there now, and he couldn't have stopped those words from leaving his mouth, and he wasn't even sure if he had wanted to, but he knew that what he was implying with his seemingly innocent question would cut deep. It took her a moment to recover, her eyes blinking for a few times in disbelief.

"How dare you?" Sara said at last, the words leaving her lips breathlessly, her eyes blazing wide with hurt and anger. "I've done and sacrificed _everything_ for you and your brother, and you still have the nerves to question where my loyalties lie?!"

"You've known Michael for how long Sara, huh? A couple of weeks… a month maybe? I've known my brother for _years_, and I know he hates to be lied to. He's taken enough shit from me already, I have no intentions to return to that particular pattern of behavior. I can promise you that I won't waltz in there and talk to Michael about everything that's happened in his absence, but if Michael's asks about it, I will simply be honest with him and tell him the truth."

"This is not just your decision anymore Lincoln, I'm here too, you know," she said, a frantic, almost teary edge to her voice catching Lincoln slightly off-guard, "and trust me, I don't care about wining or losing some jealousy contest of who gets the largest portion of Michael's attention to you, all I am trying to do is what I think is _best_ for your brother. But my opinion obviously doesn't matter at all, you're practically telling me that whatever I say or do, I have no right _whatsoever_, to co-decide what's best for Michael. Some part of your family I am, really," spat Sara, her vision momentarily blurring with unshed tears of anger and hurt.

She knew her behavior was by now edging on hysterics, but she couldn't act differently anymore. She was tired, spent, scared, and despite having Michael back, she felt like she was suffocating under the pressure of it all. Despite Lincoln's words about her being a part of the family, his actions kept proving otherwise, making her feel more like an unwelcome intruder, who had been simply stuck on the lot of them somewhere along the way and, had been following ever since. And as a single tear started to roll down her cheek, she wasn't sure she would be able to continue this lie of not seeing or feeling her isolation any longer, not even for Michael's sake. It had always been just Michael and LJ to Lincoln - the trio of men bound together by blood ties, a test she could never pass - and it stung her even more for all they've been through together.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat, there was nothing more for her to say, and as her hands gripped the ending of the stairs rail almost painfully, the absurd feeling of complete loneliness gripped her heart. Despite the fact the man she loved was just down the hall, safe and sound, he seemed as far away and unreachable to Sara as her father was after her mother had died. Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't notice Lincoln approach her, bringing his huge hand to rest on her shoulder soothingly, his posture defensive, and voice quiet and kind.

"Listen Sara, I know how very much you care bout Michael, but so do I. And I know that without your help, we would have never made it here, and I'm in your debt for that. But what you are asking of me is simply something I cannot give you. I am done lying to Michael, I've done it too often in the past and it always ended badly. So I made an oath to never do it again. And if you can allow me a piece of advice, you should do the same if you want your relationship with my brother to last."

Sara didn't reply but moved away from his touch. She gave a small nod, but neither of understanding nor of acceptance, Lincoln's last words echoing in her head like an ominous warning. She stood there for a moment longer, lips pursed tightly together, doing all in her will to stop the salty tears from dropping from her eyes. She couldn't do this anymore, she couldn't act like everything was fine, when nothing really was. She was not alright, in fact, she was the furthest from alright, since she had '_left the door open_', and she was at a loss as to what to do.

She had been trying so hard to create this nice and comfortable bubble around Michael, in which he could recover quickly and happily. And now Lincoln was bursting it open just like that, after everything all of them had been through. She hoped that once Michael was back, he would be the glue that would bind them all together, not the point they would so starkly disagree upon.

"You know what, Lincoln?" she said at last, her look hanging somewhere between them, unfocused and glassy, her voice stripped of all emotion, strength or power, limited to a bare whisper, "Do what you have to do. But I ask you to at least try to weight and consider your words well, in order to hurt your brother as little as possible, while you unload your burden onto him."

Despite her vitriolic words, deep down, Lincoln understood what she was trying to say, protecting his brother as much as herself from her demons. He asked himself if he was really being selfish by wanting to be honest with his brother. Of course - he realized with a sinking feeling to his stomach - the information he possessed didn't concern himself as much as it did Sara. He wouldn't be giving away his very own secrets, but Sara's. Some of which she was, obviously, deeply unsettled about and didn't want Michael to know. In fact, Lincoln realized, he wouldn't be betraying Michael's trust, he would betray Sara's. But Michael had the right to know, and where Lincoln couldn't succeed with her, Michael surely would. Wouldn't that be a service for all of them?

And still, a deep red lace of doubt and guilt started to loop itself around Lincoln's insides, witnessing the betrayed and saddened look Sara was giving him, making it hard for Lincoln to breathe. He never particularly cared that he wasn't the smartest guy in the house, but God would he give anything to be one right now, so he would be able to decide what would be best, not only for his brother, but for Sara too, as well as the whole family.

Finally, Sara slowly and extremely tiredly turned on her spot and made her way up the stairs. A moment later, Lincoln's ears caught a quiet conversation at the very top, one voice belonging to Sara, the other - to Lincoln's horror - to his son. Shortly after, LJ came to view, but his back was turned on Lincoln while he softly called after Sara that he was on his way to visit his uncle. Lincoln watched as she descended a few steps with a hint of a warm smile playing on her lips to say something else to LJ before they parted ways. The young man turned and started to descend the stairs towards Lincoln, the expression on his face changing in an instant, hardening upon spotting his father.

How long his son had been standing there, Lincoln didn't know, but from the look on his face, LJ had heard a huge part of the conversation with Sara, and a strong sense of déjà-vu hit Lincoln, with an unexpected painful force.

Once again, he had broken a promise made to his brother, unable to tread carefully with Sara and hurting her badly in the process. And once again, his son had been a witness to that, furiously roaming his shoulder onto his father's with great force, on his way to his uncle's room.

TBC


	20. Not their first Fight

**Story:** Fence Talks  
**Characters:** Sara Tancredi, Michael Scofield, Lincoln Burrows, LJ Burrows, Jane Phillips  
**Pairing**: Sara/Michael  
**Genre**: angst, drama, romance, family, AU  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Word Count**: approx. 1800 words  
**Chapter**: 20  
**Summary**: Michael is in Sona, but there is no Company deal required from him, Linc and Sara working together to get Michael out.  
They are three desperate people who try to do anything to get a normal life together, and they do some so much needed talking along the way.  
**Spoilers**: AU for S3 after the happining of 2x22 Sona.

_Thank you to my marvelous beta,_ spunkyar.

**Not their first fight**

LJ was just heading downstairs to see his uncle, when he bumped into Sara and his father having an argument downstairs. He was just about able to hide in the shadow of the stairwell to listen to the harsh exchange of words between the two adults. He couldn't catch everything, but he knew they were talking about his uncle's well being, and he caught the cruel words his father directed at Sara throughout their heated debate. Later, on her way up the stairs she almost bumped into him, and upon catching a glimpse of her tear stained face and in a rush of panic LJ blocked her way so she had no way to escape him, quickly asking, "Is everything alright with Uncle Mike?"

"Yeah…" she breathed sniffing, feigning calmness. "He wants to see you," was all she had managed to squeeze through her lips with a forced smile before trying to escape LJ once again. Without thinking and slightly panicky, LJ grabbed her arm rather roughly as she was passing him on the narrow staircase, causing her to look up in surprise.

"Are _you_ alright, Sara?" the boy asked a bit sheepishly, well aware of the intimacy of his touch as well as the potential intrusiveness of his question directed at a woman he barely knew. However, she was important to his uncle and that was all he needed to know to feel a strange sense of protectiveness towards her. Maybe it was due to the loss of almost every woman that ever mattered to him, but he felt oddly drawn to Sara.

She smiled through her tears, this time genuinely though, giving him a small nod. "I will be just fine. Guess the lack of sleep and worry for your uncle's safety and the final relief of having him back caused me to be a little emotional," she let out a shuddering breath, "but it's nothing a nap won't cure," she said almost cheerily, the lies leaving her lips in such a natural flow it surprised them both. She never considered herself a very good liar, but obviously, things have changed.

She watched LJ to give her a hesitant nod, then he started to descend the stairs, "I'll go pay Uncle Mike a visit then," he called to her, forcing gaiety into his voice while glancing back at her over his shoulder and gracing her with one of his most charming and extremely rare smiles. In response, Sara couldn't help but stop him on his way down, descending the few stairs between them to quietly say to him, "You are _so_ much like your uncle LJ, you know that?" she said in all sincerity, her eyes slightly narrowed, the unusual compliment causing the young man's cheeks to flush with blood.

"I wish," he quipped, his cheeks red, his eyes feverishly studying his sneakers. Sara merely smiled wondering - not for the first time - how this boy strikingly resembled his uncle in so many ways. He made her feel so much better all just by caring enough to notice the fact that she indeed wasn't okay at all.

Parting their way, Sara climbed the rest of the stairs heavily, quickly shutting the door to her room behind her. She was tired, God, so tired, yet she knew there was no way she could get any sleep now. She went over to the small bathroom, wiping her face clean of the remaining tear stains and then crossed the room to her backpack, again, searching for one of the roses. The white one - this time - she carefully took out, quietly observing it for a short moment. It was obviously made with deep care and quiet deliberation, resulting in the origami to board on perfection in shape and fold, radiating a strange glow of peace and innocence and purity so strange, considering it was made under the circumstances of a hell like Sona.

Sneaking from her room and making her way downstairs, Sara stopped by the kitchen to inform Jane she was heading out and would be back soon, promising not to wander off too far. Jane only nodded and Sara gave her a quick smile, never giving as much as a glance over to the table, where she could see, out of the corner of her eye, sat a slumped Lincoln.

Giving the impression she was going to take a walk along the beach, Sara made a quick detour instead, seeking out her newly found sanctuary. Knowing she couldn't be with Michael in his room all the time, especially not now, she climbed into the hammock, which was - for some reason she didn't fully understand herself – the next best thing to make her feel close to him.

XxX

LJ quietly knocked on the door, pushing it open and peaking his head inside. Seeing Michael's eyes were closed, he was about to shut the door behind him once again with a disappointed face, when a voice from inside caught his attention.

"LJ Burrows, are you trying to sneak yourself out of a visit with your sick Uncle?" Michael's eyes were all of a sudden open, his voice full of unreleased laughter at the sight of his sheepish looking nephew.

"No way Uncle Mike!" the boy said beaming before crossing the room in a few quick strides, bending over Michaels form. Hesitating awkwardly, he suddenly didn't know what to do next. Michael decided to pull him out of his misery, rising slightly in order to give his nephew a manly hug.

"Missed you kiddo," he almost whispered into the boys hair before releasing him, warm emotions reflecting in his eyes. LJ grinned.

"And hey, look at you! You must've grown a couple of inches since the last time I saw you," commented Michael appreciatively, measuring his nephew up and down. The boy nodded with another grin. "And," Michael continued with a mischievous hint in his voice, "I've heard you got yourself a girlfriend," he said evenly, yet his eyes were sparkling mischief. The boy didn't waver for a moment before replying, "Yeah, I've heard so did you!"

Michael stared at his nephew for a beat before letting out a loud laugh. "See you're keeping yourself well informed, I can respect that," he nodded appreciatively, "So what do you think of her, then?" He asked his nephew with a wink.

"I think she is awesome," LJ said earnestly, watching his uncle's eyes soften. "And I think she is just perfect for you Uncle Mike," he added.

"You two getting along then, I see," commented Michael with a grin, a happy twinkle shining in his eye, "I thought you two might," he said, satisfaction of being right spreading across his features.

"She just told me I was a lot like you," said LJ with a small smile, his eyes cast downward and his face gaining a slightly bashful expression. Fidgeting with his hands in his lap, his eyes raised to meet his uncle's expectantly at last.

"Did she?" asked Michael in obvious surprise but delight. LJ only nodded, a slow grin spreading through his face.

They spent the next couple of minutes talking about LJ and school and Jane and LJ's new girlfriend, until their talk unexpectedly turned towards another direction.

After a moment of silence that followed after a round of laughter from both men at a funny story LJ had with his girlfriend, he suddenly said; "When I was coming down to see you, I met Sara on the stairs. I could see she's been crying," admitted LJ with a heavy heart, uneasily squirming in his seat.

"Why?" asked Michael with a sudden hitch in his throat, his voice barely over a whisper. He saw her only moments before and she seemed perfectly fine.

LJ hesitated. "She said she was exhausted and just happy you were fine and wanted to take a nap," the boy shrugged, the movement of his shoulders showing uneasiness.

"But you didn't believe her," stated Michael carefully, his voice measured and observing LJ's every move.

"Nope," the boy said quietly. "I overheard her having a fight with dad again," LJ confessed without looking at his uncle, embarrassment and shame over his father's actions towards Sara preventing him from looking at his uncle. He could hear him draw a sharp breath.

"_Again_?" asked Michael, his mind working feverishly, "Are you telling me this wasn't their first argument so far?" asked Michael carefully, taking notice of the boy's sudden discomfort and hesitation, the subject being obviously afflictive for him. At last, LJ gave a small nod, albeit reluctantly. Despite feeling strangely like betraying his father, LJ couldn't help but share his concerns over his father's relationship to Sara, as well as his concerns regarding his uncle's good-hearted girlfriend.

He could feel a hand upon his own, "It's okay LJ, you don't have to feel bad about telling me, but if you don't feel comfortable to talk to me about it anymore, you don't have to. I won't be mad, okay?" said Michael in a gentle voice, seeing his nephew relax visibly.

"Hey, want me to ask something really awkward of you?" asked Michael impishly, trying to elevate his nephews spirits a bit.

"Sure," breathed LJ with a chuckle.

"Can you help me to the bathroom? I need to take a leak," asked Michael with a sheepish look, eliciting a hearty laugh from his nephew.

"Course!" rising from the armchair, he bent over Michael, helping him into a sitting position.

"Are you even allowed to get out of bed Uncle Mike?" asked LJ suspiciously, seeing Michael slowly taking out the needle of the now empty IV, his face contorted with pain at his every movement.

"Nope, but I rather endure a little pain than the embarrassment of wetting the bed at the age of thirty. Think I'm a bit too old for that," he gave LJ a wink and leaned into him, keeping his injured leg from the ground. Slowly hopping to the door, it took them a few moments to cross the room to the main door.

Michael ordered LJ to check if the '_air was clear_' outside first, before they made their way - agonizingly slowly - to the bathroom, both slightly worried what would happen if they got caught. In the end, all went well and LJ watched with satisfaction, how his uncle literally melted into his cushions afterwards, a happy, relieved smile dancing over his lips.

"Can I ask for one more favor from you, LJ?" asks Michael, a sudden determined glint appearing in his eye.

"Sure, Uncle Mike. Shoot," offered LJ generously, a cheeky smile with a hint of relief at not being caught during their secret sneak-out lighting his face.

"When you see Sara, can you send her in?"

LJ's smile merely widened, a knowing smirk appearing on his face, but he only nodded. Despite not being asked to do so straight ahead, LJ rose to his feet without another word and hastily left the room in search for his hopefully-future-aunt.

~oOo~

TBC


	21. Bedside Manner

**Story:** Fence Talks  
**Characters:** Sara Tancredi, Michael Scofield, Lincoln Burrows, LJ Burrows, Jane Phillips  
**Pairing**: Sara/Michael  
**Genre**: angst, drama, romance, family, AU  
**Rating**: R  
**Word Count**: approx. 3 000 words  
**Chapter**: 21  
**Summary**: Michael is in Sona, but there is no Company deal required from him, Linc and Sara working together to get Michael out.  
They are three desperate people who try to do anything to get a normal life together, and they do some so much needed talking along the way.  
**Spoilers**: AU for S3 after the happenings of 2x22 Sona.

**A/N:** Huge thanks to the lovely **spunkyar** for doing the beta, she always makes my stories better!!! *squishes* And LOLOL, I totally loved all your inserted comments about this and that, I had such a good time reading the chapter with them! Pity it wasn't possible to leave them in the final version. *wink*

Also, huge thank to everybody who is still reading this story for sticking with me, and special thanks to all the people who are so kind to leave a review, it always makes my heart jump with joy.

This chapter is rather light and fluffy, I thought our heroes needed to have some slack cut...ya know…;)

**Chapter 21 – ****Bedside manner**

Lost in time and his sub-consciousness, Michael was brought back from his deep sleep by a light touch to his wrist, then the feel of soft fingers brushing his forehead with gentle care. Opening his eyes slowly, Michael let out a content sigh at the sight of Sara leaning over him. She was smiling softly, with eyes full of affection staring down at him.

"Hey," he whispered hoarsely, his lips spreading into the widest smile he possessed.

"Hey," Sara replied in a low tone while she let her fingers wander south until they were cupping Michael's cheek and jaw, her thumb drawing soothing patterns over his whiskered cheek.

"LJ told me you wanted to see me, but you were asleep, so I let you rest for a couple of hours," said Sara, following Michael's eyes move over to the window, watching the sun sinking lower into the horizon.

"You okay?" asked Sara softly.

"Yeah," he answered bringing his eyes back, his hand coming to cover hers on his cheek. He smiled before continuing.

"Why? Is there something wrong with wanting to see you without a reason?" he added mischievously, watching with satisfaction as Sara's face broke into a huge, slightly embarrassed smile.

"I missed you." He murmured quietly after a moment, his voice deadly serious now. It caused Sara's smile to falter slightly. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of her hand trapped between his own and his cheek.

"Missed you too," her voice came out in a gentle whisper, ghosting over his skin and sending goose bumps all over his body.

Opening her eyes again, Sara's looked up and down Michael's torso checking for any signs or indications that would tell her if he wasn't feeling okay. She was unable to suppress her medical instincts and closely observed her patient. Frowning slightly when her eyes stopped on his forearm, she finally noticed the missing needle in his arm, the needle from the IV she knew was there a couple of hours ago.

"Why did you take out your IV?" she asked, her tone brisker and angrier than she wanted to sound. Regretting her harsh tone instantly, she added with more gentleness and care in her voice, "You know you need to keep it in. It's for your own good, Michael," a frustrated sigh left her lips.

"I know and I'm sorry," he replied quickly, rushing with his answer. "The bag was already empty when I pulled out the needle and I only did it so I could go to the bathroom."

The instant he said it, he regretted not to have chosen his words more carefully.

"You did _what_? Michael!" she half-shouted, frustration and anger now literally dripping from her words. He grabbed her retrieving hand quickly, bringing it back to his face and kissing her palm.

"I am sorry, I know, but I really needed to…you know…_go_," he explained, a slight shade of pink invading his cheeks, but it seemed to do the trick. The corners of Sara's mouth were starting to twitch upwards, a tiny smile appearing on her lips despite doing her best to suppress it. Michael decided to push his luck by explaining further.

"Don't worry. I asked LJ to help me and I was really careful, not using my injured leg at all." He saw her relax visibly, the frown creasing, her forehead smoothening.

"Just don't do any more stunts without me, alright?" she said with a hint of a smile. He nodded in agreement, his eyes full of rest, contentment and something far richer. Sara wasn't able to resist the urge to get closer to him any longer.

She bent forward, planting a chaste slow kiss to his lips. She could instantly tell he was thrilled by the contact as much as she was. Still, not wanting to take things between them any further before she could fix him medically, she used all her willpower to withdraw, turning her attention to the medical kit resting on the side table instead. A small smile escaped her lips when she heard the disappointed sigh coming from her favorite patient.

"First things first, Scofield," she said with sportive professionalism, hoping he would take her hint - an outstretched hand for truce, and also a taste of some of their common good memories. He did.

"Oh Doctor, but you are _so_ distracting!" Satisfied, he heard her let out a low chuckle.

"Well, I doubt you will still think that once I start to clean up your wound," she said, turning to him with a pair of latex glows already on, her raised eyebrows indicating it was his turn to act. Sensing Sara meant business and the fun was over for now, Michael pushed the sheets over his chest and down his legs, exposing the covered wound on his upper leg. Sara started to slowly peal off the layers of gauze and strips, finally exposing the healing wound.

He winced slightly when she started to dab the wound carefully. She apologized over and over every time she hit a particularly sensitive spot until Michael had to stop her with a chuckle, telling her it was ok and she was doing fine.

She flashed back a nervous smile, realizing her behavior to be a little odd considering the fact she was a doctor just doing her job, in which she was used to inflict pain in order to heal. Yet the situation changed considerably now. Michael was not a mere patient anymore. On the other hand, Michael was _never_ just some patient.

She cleared her throat, desperately trying not to notice the smug grin forming on Michael's lips. "The wound looks good. No signs of increasing infection and the flesh is already starting to restore itself and heal properly."

"Thanks to you," Michael said with his voice barely over a whisper. "I heard you did an amazing job on me when you brought me back."

She froze in her movements for the shortest of moments before she continued as if never stopping, her voice bearing a trace of caution that caused Michael's heart to drop an inch in his chest. It was as if the temperature fell a couple degrees all of a sudden. Sara was hiding in the shadows, again.

"You don't remember anything?" she asked carefully measuring her words and watched him shake his head. "Well," she sighed loudly, snapping the dirty gloves from her hands with a smack, "that's probably for the best," she finished, biting her tongue in order to stop the words from rushing out of her mouth yet failing miserably.

He grasped her wrist, his long fingers carefully curling around them in a gentle caress. "Don't shut me out." There was something resembling begging in his voice. She hated she was making him feel insecure, but she was just as insecure herself right now as well, and she simply wasn't in the state to offer him her poker face, acting as if everything was ok when nothing really was.

_It wasn't supposed to be like this. Everything was supposed to change once she got him back, safe and whole and loving. __But it's all just been in theory,_ Sara realized with a heavy heart. _And_ _reality was currently kicking her ass, being far more complicated than any theory ever invented._

She sighed, closing her eyes. When she opened them again to look directly into his face, his blue orbs were burning a whole into her soul through her hazel pools.

"I don't, Michael. I truly _don't_. I just…" she started carefully in a quiet voice, "I just need time to figure some things out on my own. That's all."

She saw a flicker of emotion she couldn't identify in his eyes, then it was gone. "Things about…_us_?" he asked in a feeble voice, the raw fear and panic in his tone breaking her heart. Bending over, she brought her hands to rest on the sides of his face in a calming manner, pressing her face to his as close as possible without their lips actually touching.

"No Michael, not us. _Never_ about us, okay?"

She could feel him exhale, the puff of relieved breath hitting her face in a warm, sweet rush. "I just need a little space for myself right now, and I need you to respect that. Please," she added quietly, her eyes begging him to understand. Finally, he gave a small nod.

"Promise to come to me whenever you feel or need to though, alright?" he asked bringing his fingers to tangle in her hair lovingly. She nodded, loving the feel of his hands in her hair and on her face, leaning into his touch immediately.

"You were always there for me. Now I want be there for _you_," he whispered right before their lips touched. She believed him, every word.

Michael took his time with the kiss, pouring all the emotions he was feeling in the course of the past couple of days into the kiss. All his longing, all his despair and loneliness and yearning for her, were over now. They could start over, and he would do anything to make that happen, in the best possible way.

Once again, Sara pulled away as the kiss started to deepen, flashing Michael an apologetic look before turning to the medical kit once again, extracting a new sterile needle and a full IV.

"Any pain? Fever?" she asked, attaching the needle to the IV tube. He shook his head. She nodded with satisfaction, yet couldn't help but let her hand rest against his forehead to measure his temperate herself.

"Don't trust me, Doc?" asked Michael playfully, his eyebrows rising at her challengingly. She took on his challenge immediately.

"Well, let's just say you were always one of the worst and most disobedient patients I've ever had to deal with, Scofield," said Sara, her lips curling into a smug grin when she heard the slight gasp upon inserting the IV needle back into his arm.

"And _that_," she gave him a pointed look, " is why it isn't advisable to take out the needle by yourself in the first place," she uttered, smiling at the light scowl he gave her, rubbing and massaging the sore spot of skin around the needle.

"You definitely have to work on your bedside manner," grumbled Michael half-heartedly, immensely enjoying the sight of Sara smiling in amusement at their light banter.

"And _you,_ my dear friend, need to work on your 'bed-in' manner!" Sara played along, feigning outrage and poking Michael into the middle of his chest with her index finger.

"There. You are all fixed," she said at last, watching Michael's hand curl around her wrist.

When she didn't respond to his touch immediately, his grip tightened yet stayed gentle, tugging at her wrist in an indication for her to come closer.

The huge smile on her face froze, yet not in an unpleasant way. She felt happy, giddy even, a feeling she just remembered she must have lost without even noticing. Her eyes wandered to his face, watching his eyes darken with desire and want.

She licked her lips involuntarily, her eyes switching between his piercing gaze and his lips and back up. She started to bend over slowly, yet instead of kissing him, she pressed her forehead to his, closing her eyes and simply breathing him in. To give him credit, he didn't act but waited for her for make the next move. He was a patient man, and she just asked him for time and space. God knew he would grant it.

She raised her head just an inch away from him, bracing her arms at the side of his pillow for support, switching positions from sitting in the chair next to his bed to sitting on the edge of his mattress.

Michael felt his pulse spike when she slowly started to plant soft kisses on his face - first his forehead, then eyebrows, each eyelid, cheeks and then jaw, excruciatingly slowly making her way to his lips.

Then their lips finally met in a slow kiss. It was almost teasing at first, but then it deepened, despite keeping its slow pace, placing the kiss somewhere between maddeningly unsatisfactory and completely fulfilling at the same time.

It was a pace of Sara's choosing and Michael couldn't help but admire her perfect intuition for what they both needed at that moment.

Surely enough, the kiss soon started to take on a whole new meaning. And when Sara started to involve her tongue as well, the warm and soft flesh gliding over Michael's skin and lips, it nearly drove him to a point of losing his control. His resolve to let her set the pace started to crumble, leaving him with a bold want take the lead himself.

It was only when she withdrew from him slightly to look into is eyes - mischief dancing in her hazel orbs and a soft smile playing upon her lips - did Michael realize with horror she must have noticed what his senses couldn't while completely lost in her. His body was…_reacting_ to her, in the most natural but also the most embarrassing of ways, at least when considered their current situation.

Her smile merely grew, forming a loop-sided smug grin on her face. "Loosing control that easily, huh?" she mocked lightly, and despite his mortification, Michael could see she was enjoying herself.

"Well…" he cleared his throat, "it's been a long time and I've missed you like crazy," he confessed, his uncharacteristically bold statement taking Sara by surprise. Not knowing what to say in return and being overwhelmed by her own feelings at his words, Sara chose to take mercy on him and do the only logical thing. She straightened up to a sitting position on the edge of the bed and grabbed the ends of his covers, pulling them up and over his hips, tucking them carefully underneath him at the height of his stomach.

"Thanks," he mumbled, still slightly embarrassed, but she merely flashed him a wide genuine smile.

"You know," he started with a voice a bit stronger this time, "I've always wondered how you dealt with these things in Fox River. I mean," he continued with renewed mortification at the topic of his inquiry, watching her eyebrows rise, "you know, you were the only woman in Fox River...not to mention a beautiful and caring doctor, working amongst a bunch of the worst guys, some of which haven't seen a female in person in more than a decade." He shrugged shyly, "I only wondered, how you could stand that?"

She shrugged in return, giving him a thoughtful look. "Well, for starters, I wasn't the _only_ woman inside those walls. There was also Katie and some other female personnel. And secondly, you might be very surprised how whiny and self-centered many of those _tough_ guys were once experiencing even such things as a slight fever or a sprained kneecap. They didn't give a damn about a woman; they just wanted the Doc to give some drugs to dull the pain and leave them alone to wallow in their misery." Michael gave her a doubtful look that made her smile.

"Alright alright," she said with her eyes shying away from his amused face, "there _were_ a couple of times – well, more than just a couple actually - when my presence…stirred something up – no pun intended - causing a perfectly natural biological reaction," he was smiling fully now at her lame attempt to stay serious and factual about it, "_but_," she raised her finger, "I've always been completely professional about it," she added, her cheeks flushed.

"So…" Michael rubbed his hands in exaggerated anticipation, "anybody I know?"

She pondered his question for a moment, a sparkle of amusement igniting her eyes when she finally understood the meaning of his question. There was a flash of what seemed to be an amusing memory, but before Michael even got the chance to start encrypting the person who was the source of it, it was gone again.

"Nope, nobody you may know in particular," she quipped at last, perfectly aware he could tell she was lying.

"Ok, have it your way then," said Michael decisively, causing Sara to let out a small laugh.

"Abruzzi?"

She shook her head, continuing to laugh softly.

"Heywire," he tried, watching her shake her head once again, her laughter merely growing.

"C-Note?!" She continued to laugh in great amusement, the melodic sound warming Michael's heart.

"Charles?" he asked with his brow furrowed by doubt and Sara continued to laugh even harder. He was slowly running out of names, thinking feverishly about all the men he got to know more or less well in the prison, then it struck him.

"Oh my Gosh," he gasped out loud, "don't tell me…" he said incredulously with his head shaking to both sides quickly, his eyes wide open. "Please, don't tell me it was my brother!"

TBC


	22. Stay

**A/N:** What is there more to say? I love you Ashley, for all those wonderful changes you made. :) Thank you!

**Chapter 22 –**** Stay**

"_Oh my Gosh," he gasped out loud, "don't tell me…" he said incredulously with his head shaking to both sides quickly, his eyes wide open. "Please, don't tell me it was my brother!" _

~ooOoo~

Her laughter stopped abruptly, her own eyes widening with shock as the thought struck her imagination like a lightning bolt.

"What? No! My Gosh, _no_! Never…" she stuttered, hiding her face in her hands in embarrassment at the thought of her and Lincoln in such a situation, never mind if she was officially his doctor back then or not. She could feel his fingers wrap around her wrists, tugging on them gently until she could see his face.

"Even if that were the case, I couldn't really blame him," said Michael, his voice amused but serious at the same time.

Sara didn't think it was possible to turn a brighter shade of red, but she was sure she just outdid herself. "Thank you…" she managed to stutter out uneasily, "…I guess," she added in a more steady tone.

"Ok, now that we've both had our embarrassing moment, how about you tell me who the mysterious gentleman was," said Michael, continuing to press the intriguing subject.

Sara gave Michael a lingering look, pondering whether he deserved an answer or not. Resigning on the fact that she couldn't resist the puppy face he was giving her either way, she decided to give in. Nibbling her bottom lip between her teeth, she gave Michael an amused, pointed look. It all clicked after less than two seconds.

"No way…" he said truly surprised, but her growing smile and tiny nod confirmed his suspicions.

"So Bellick, huh?" She gave a throaty laugh, smacking his chest with an audible sound.

"Stop it, Michael! You know I wasn't talking about _him_!" Of course he knew, but it was worth cracking in a joke just to see her relax and laugh like that. Finally, he decided to grow a little serious again. Shaking his head to both sides frantically, he said in obvious disbelief.

"But he is madly in love with Maricruz."

"You have to cut him some slack Michael, it was at a time when his conjugal visits with his girlfriend weren't all that frequent…." She flushed all of a sudden. "And partially, it might have been my fault too," she quipped in a small voice. When he didn't say a word but merely raised his eyebrows so high they almost touched his hairline, she hastily elaborated.

"I…uhm…I didn't realize…you see, Sucre was one the cons I liked. He was a decent guy who made a stupid mistake and landed himself a one-way ticket into Fox River. Uhm, anyway, he had his ribs bruised rather badly by some of the cons and I was looking for some cooling ointment and bandages I knew I stocked somewhere in the lower cupboards. I turned my back on him, bending down to look for them…" her face grew even hotter, "I didn't have my lab coat, I had a pair of really tight and well-fitting jeans on, and it was a really hot summer day…, I didn't realize how that must have looked like. At least until I turned around and saw his face, and then…_him_, you know..."

Despite the priceless story Sara had just shared with him, Michael couldn't help but for once be thankful for his multitasking mind and its ability to notice more than one thing at a time. Thanks to this, he all of a sudden realized he had his breath stolen away by the sight of a half-stuttering Sara looking flushed, shy and embarrassed, and the cutest he has ever seen her. It was not just the outer beauty his eye caught though, not only the way her restored red silky hair shimmered in the soft light, or how her dark chocolate eyes darted to the ground while the pinkish stains on her cheeks gave away her awkwardness, although these were also things that made his heart want to break out of his chest and fly away. However, what he loved her most for in this situation was her need to feel shy about the story she was just telling him, as well as her attempt to justify his friends actions in front of him.

"The poor guy was even more mortified than I was," she chuckled in remembrance. Her face then grew more serious, a thoughtful look settling on her face. "I wonder how he is doing," she said quietly, looking hopefully at Michael in question.

"The last time I heard, he was back home and happy with his pregnant fiancé," he told her, glad that at least for once he was able to offer good news, a happy gleam invading his own eyes.

"That's really great news. From the little I've known about him, he looked like a really nice guy. And from what I've heard a true friend too," she added, shooting a curious look at Michael, who gave a small nod and a soft smile.

"Sucre is a wonderful friend. Actually, the best friend I've ever had," he said in a quiet voice.

"Maybe we could hook up with him one day. I would love to get to know him," suggested Sara quietly, observing the happiness shining out of Michael's eyes.

"You would?" he asked with unmasked, almost childlike, hope.

"Of course, Michael. I know he means a lot to you. And that means he means a lot to me too."

She could tell he was touched, momentarily speechless at her generosity, and she reached out to touch his hand, her fingers curling around his and squeezing lightly for comfort and reassurance.

"You are amazing, you know that?" he said in awe and saw her smile.

"I try," she quipped, leaning down to give his lips a small peck.

"You hungry?" asked Sara unexpectedly, ending her question with a loud yawn.

"You're tired," stated Michael, ignoring her question.

"I'm fine," she replied automatically. "So, do you want something to eat or not?"

"Only if you join me," Again, she smiled, not able to resist.

"Okay," she whispered standing up and leaving the room in search for some quickly prepared dinner, hoping she would be back in no time and share it with her favorite patient.

~ooOoo~

Ten minutes later, she came back with a plate of cheese and ham sandwiches, Lincoln and LJ at her heel, joining the couple for supper.

They laughed and enjoyed each others company, Michael feeling better then he has in days, months even. However, he couldn't help but notice two things that made his heart ache with concern.

For one, Sara and Lincoln were clearly avoiding each others looks, talking and connecting always only through a third party, either Michael or LJ. Secondly – and this unsettled Michael even more because he didn't know the reason for this behavior – Sara was carefully but firmly avoiding Michael's every touch, every look. She sat the farthest from him on a chair near the window, stubbornly refusing to meet his curious gaze. She was slightly nervous, tugging at the sleeves of her long shirt, her eyes skimming the walls restlessly. Sometimes, she seemed deeply lost in her thoughts to even listen to the light banter between him, his brother and LJ.

"You okay?" he asked softly while Lincoln teased and argued with LJ about his haircut.

She shot him a look, slightly shaking her head and blinking twice before slowly answering. "Yeah, I'm fine."

_Right._

It was still early, but noticing – not for the first time – the dark circles underneath her eyes, Michael suggested calling it a night, indirectly dismissing his current company.

"Sure thing little bro, enjoy your rest," said Lincoln, moving to ruffle Michael shortly cropped hair in a brotherly manner before leaving the room.

"Good night Uncle Mike," called LJ softly, giving his uncle a wink while following his father out of the room, smart enough to close the door behind him.

When Sara stood up to leave as well, Michael held out his hand towards her, beckoning her closer. Misinterpreting his inviting gesture still, when Sara reached his bed, she lowered down to only press a light kiss to his cheek before wishing him sweet dreams. When she made a move to leave his bed however, Michaels hand curled around hers, stopping her in her tracks.

"_Stay_," he said simply, burning his eyes into hers unexpectedly.

"What?" She was giving him a quizzical look.

"Stay here with me tonight." He uttered in a pleading voice. "I want to fall asleep with you at my side and wake up next to you. Please," he begged, his thumb drawing light circles over the delicate flesh of her wrist. After a moment, the corner of his mouth started to tug upwards slightly. "I promise to be the perfect gentleman. No hidden agenda, you have my most honest scout's word!"

She returned his smile at last, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"As tempting as your proposal is, I don't think it would be a good idea," she said carefully, slowly extracting her hand out of his, her eyes unwittingly drifting towards the door through which his brother disappeared only moments ago. It all started to fall into place for Michael; her detachment during the conversation at supper, her need to sit as far from him as possible, the kiss she refused to give him the day before when leaving with the food tray.

She acted this reservedly, almost cagily, only when Lincoln was around. A sudden feeling of cosmic injustice and a strong wave of anger washed over Michael, and before he could stop himself, he directed his anger at the first person at hand.

"And why would it be a bad idea? Are you scared my brother might find out you '_spent the night'_?" he said in an irritated voice.

It was like he was trapped inside his own body, the anger keeping her rational mind at bay. As if looking at himself from a far distance, he watched in helpless horror as all the blood drained from Sara's face, the shock and hurt in her eyes hitting him harder than a knife to the gut. Instantly, he regretted his words, the anger leaving him as quickly as it came, but it was already too late.

TBC


	23. Never meant to hurt you

**Story:** Fence Talks  
**Characters:** Sara Tancredi, Michael Scofield, Lincoln Burrows, LJ Burrows, Jane Phillips  
**Pairing**: Sara/Michael  
**Genre**: angst, drama, romance, family, AU  
**Rating**: R  
**Word Count**: approx. 1800 words  
**Chapter**: 23  
**Summary**: Michael is trapped in Sona, leaving Lincoln and Sara to battle together for his freedom. Nothing is that simple however, and while desperately trying to come up with a plan to stay alive inside the walls of Sona until the day comes to break free, Michael, Sara and Lincoln are faced with obstacles and choices not easy to be made. While attempting to stay strong and sane, some damage seems to be done along the way.  
**Spoilers**: AU since the canon of 2x22 Sona.

_Love you Ashley, for all those wonderful changes you've made. All remaining, are, as usual, mine._

_Also, a huge THANK YOU to all who took the time to leave a review. Reviews make my heart swell with joy! :)_

_**WARNING **– I've updated less than a week ago, so be careful not to have skipped a chapter! ;)_

**Chapter 23 –**** Never meant to hurt you**

"_And why would it be a bad idea? Are you scared my brother might find out you 'spent the night'?" he said in an irritated voice. It was like he was trapped inside his own body, the anger keeping her rational mind at bay. As if looking at himself from a far distance, he watched in helpless horror as all blood drained from Sara's face, the shock and hurt in her eyes hitting him harder than a punch in the gut. Instantly, he regretted his words, the anger leaving him as quickly as it came, but it was already too late._

~ooOoo~

Sara visibly tensed, but only a good observer like Michael himself could notice the slight tremble of her hands and bottom lip as she continued gazing at him in disbelief, her posture frozen like an ice statue unable to move.

And just like that, Michael was forced to watch how the walls she carefully built around herself in his absence – the walls he was barely able to penetrate and slowly, layer by layer, tear down in the past couple of hours - were replaced by far higher and stronger ones in a matter of seconds. He grasped for her hand but she was too quick for his touch, withdrawing her fingers from within his reach.

"I should go, you need your rest," she mumbled standing, yet never meeting his eyes.

"No Sara, wait!"

She was almost at the door when his pleading voice stopped her, her hand coming to rest on the door handle.

"Sara please," he said half-shouting, half-choking, a painful moan leaving his throat on its own volition, "don't leave." She stayed in her place, but didn't turn.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it to come out like that, I swear." With those desperate and heartfelt words most of her tense posture crumpled away, her shoulders sacking a little as if under the weight of too much pressure.

"It's ok," she quipped at last in a strangled voice, but kept turned away from him.

"No it's not. I shouldn't have said such a thing, and I am sorry. I was angry, but you have to believe me that it has nothing to do with you and that I never meant to hurt you." Even to his own ears, the words sounded painfully familiar to him, hanging in the air and mocking everything that ever bound them together.

_I heard what happened…I am so sorry…Please don't hang up on me._

"I understand if you don't want to stay." He uttered in a whisper at last, feeling defeated. After what he just said and how he behaved towards her, after everything that has been sacrificed and done for him, her ultimate leaving was – in Michael's eyes – the most logical thing for her to do. Surprisingly thought, she didn't leave but merely gave a deep sigh, frustration evident in her voice.

"You should understand that it's not that I don't _want_ to stay here with you Michael, it's just…" she fell quiet again. Deafening silence hung like a heavy fog around them, a fog he couldn't overcome unless he could look at her and communicate by far deeper means than the shallowness of words.

"Sara, please look at me." He asked quietly. She obeyed, finally locking her eyes with his.

"I know you are not okay. I know you are hurting. But despite the fact that I'm worried sick not knowing what's bothering you so much, I promise to give you time and space, until you decide to come to me. I'm here for you, whenever you want to talk, but I swear, I won't ask you any questions - any whatsoever – if you'll only stay. I only want to hold you, I want to feel you close, here, safe with me," his voice was trembling with fright and despair but he didn't care, "At least for one night. Please Sara, just this one night."

Despite the fact that his words were probably primordially meant to comfort her, Sara watched with a sinking heart as his whole body starter to tremble slightly and the worrying thought if it might not be too much for him to handle, occurred to her. It almost sounded like his request for her to stay was more for his own benefit, than hers.

_What if what happened to Michael in Sona was starting to return to him? What if he was afraid to be left alone with his thoughts and inner demons, memories__ of his recent ordeal in yet another prison – a far worse than the first one - he had yet to process and conquer? _

He looked so lost and afraid, the prospect of her potential departure leaving him exposed and vulnerable and more amenable to her than ever before. Her heart constricted painfully at the pitiful sight, the man lying on the bed being only a shadow of the person she knew as Michael Scofield. Deeply worried, Sara had to admit with a saddened pull to her heart, that she had been right all along with her earlier claim to Lincoln. When the physical injuries finally started to heal, the emotional ones only just started to open up and bleed.

Looking once again into the two frightened pools of his eyes, she made her decision. There was no way she could leave now, and there was no reason left as to why she would want to do so anymore.

Turning fully to him now, she gave the tiniest of smile before she said in a flat voice, "The bed is too narrow, it won't fit the both of us."

Michael relaxed visibly, a deep sigh leaving his lips. Flashing her a perfect smile, he once again outstretched his hand towards her. "Trust me."

_God, she did__._

She made the few steps back to the bed, finally taking his hand, watching him intertwine their fingers quickly as if in fear she might still change her mind.

All of a sudden, a wave of nausea and extreme tiredness hit her, her eyelids starting to heavily press against her eyes. While Michael carefully moved over to the other side of the bed to create a reasonable amount of space for her, she contemplated the insane notion to leave for a change of clothes and some freshening up, but the sight of a bed - _with Michael in it_ - was so tempting, she discarded the thought in an instant. Wearing just an old shirt and a pair of not particularly fitting jeans, she didn't care what she wore or how she looked, or if her clothes were at all comfortable to sleep in. She knew that anywhere near Michael would be comfortable enough.

Careful not to touch any of his injuries or disturb the IV in any way, she slipped under the sheets with him almost soundlessly. After some shuffling, moving and rearranging, they managed to contently snuggle into one another's arms - Michael on his back, Sara cuddled to his side, her arm draped over his naked torso.

He felt so warm and inviting, smelling of soap and sweat and antiseptic, radiating the masculine odour of a man she knew she loved deeply. She couldn't remember a time when she felt so secure and safe and relaxed before, discarding the memory that only moments ago, she was actually about to leave this room, completely from her mind. This was her place; this was where she was supposed to be. And for the love of God, she couldn't think of a single reason why she would want to leave Michael's bed to spend the night alone.

She let out a content sigh, reveling in the feeling of his hand gently stroking her head and smoothing out her hair. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, wishing for this moment never to end. When he brushed his lips over her forehead lightly, whispering renewed apologies and expressing his love for her over and over again into the darkening light, she thought her heart might not be able stand the bittersweet pressure any longer and burst like a bubble right then. Instead, she chose to find her voice again, and God was it a hard search, the emotions bubbling in her chest and throat preventing her vocal cords from working.

"I love you too," she finally managed to utter back into the darkness, her new-found voice trembling slightly, being smothered by emotions she was hiding too deep and for too long in her heart.

"And don't you ever dare to leave me again," she whispered at last in a moment of her deepest weakness. Lulled to a feel of utmost security by the circle of his arms, by the touch of his warm lips against her overheated skin, and partly shielded from view by the shadows of the approaching twilight, she finally dared to voice her biggest fear.

"_I swear_," came a desperately honest reply, the rush of Michael's heated breath hitting her earlobe with a force reminding her once again of the man she met in Fox River - a man with a plan, a man ready to do just about anything in order to execute the promises he gave to his brother, to himself. It sent a wave of goose bumps all over her body.

_She loved him so much._

That was the last thing Sara remembered before she fell into a heavy slumber, filled with strange and heavy dreams about cheese and ham sandwiches smelling of Michael, a very, _very_ embarrassed and pregnant Fernando Sucre, and a rush of a series of hot breaths of an unidentified yet erotic source, ghosting over her skin and whispering words of love, devotion and commitment never to leave her or let go.

It wasn't long before her dreams changed, however, becoming more dark and heavy with each new-drawn breath, finally causing Sara to wake with a horrible start, trembling from head to toe and bathed in sweat, tears streaming down her face. It felt exactly like every other night she experienced in the past few days, the nightmares coming every single time, whenever she so much as dozed off or fell into a deep sleep.

Only this time, she wasn't alone anymore. An arm gripped her tightly, pressing her to the side of a man whose smell and feel she could recognize amongst a million others. Desperately clenching to the only source of stability and strength, she clutched Michael to herself for dear life, letting the tears that wouldn't come in the past few days of horror finally fall, heaving and sobbing into a warm, solid chest that offered utmost comfort and held the promise of protection from all the evils of this world.

TBC


	24. To Eat like a real Guy

**Story****: **Fence Talks

**Characters**: Michael Scofield, Sara Tancredi, Lincoln Burrows, LJ Burrows, Jane Phillips

**Pairing**: Michael/Sara

**Rating**: PG-13

**Genre**: het, angst, hurt/comfort, family, non-epilogue compliant, pretty much AU after 2x22 Sona

**Word count**: 2780 words

**Chapter**: 24

**Summary**: Michael is trapped in Sona, leaving Lincoln and Sara to battle together for his freedom. Nothing is that simple however, and while desperately trying to come up with a plan to stay alive inside the walls of Sona until the day comes to break free, Michael, Sara and Lincoln are faced with obstacles and choices not easy to be made. While attempting to stay strong and sane, some damage seems to be done along the way.

**Author's notes**: Okay, I know that my last update has been in ages, but I beg your understanding. It's not always and easy path to write fanfiction and struggle with you muse as well as real life. I only hope that I've still got some readers left. Thank you all for still sticking with me and this story. I really believe that such a long dry spell will never occur, ever.

_Thank you dear spunkyar for the beta. :)_

**Chapter 24 - ****To Eat Like a Real Guy**

The next time he woke, Michael needed a moment to remember the events of the previous night and the fact that last time he checked, he hadn't fallen asleep alone. And yet, with a dull ache to his heart, Michael had to realize that he was waking up alone, meaning that sometime between falling asleep in one another's arms after the midnight disruption, Sara had to leave his bed, disappearing from his room as quietly as a ghost.

Glancing to his right, Michael nearly groaned with irritation before sinking back into the pillows. His 'ghost' obviously managed to set up a fresh IV for him.

Banging his head slightly against the pillow first in frustration, then in a regular rhythm, Michael thought back a couple of hours ago, back to the moment when he was woken from his heavy sleep by the sound of somebody's desperate, heart-wrenching sobs.

_Once Michael's mind surfaced from his sleep enough to recognize that the cries weren't part of his own murky dreams, his eyes snapped open, trying to locate the source of the pitiful sound. Sara was sitting at the edge of the bed, her face covered with her hands and her whole frame shaking_ _as she was trying to stifle her woeful moans in order not to wake him. _

_Michael cleared his throat - the only thing that came to his mind on how to make himself known, and watched her whole frame stiffen and freeze. He outstretched his arm, his hand hesitantly landing on her shoulder, his fingers squeezing in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. For a moment, they just sat there, neither of them speaking nor moving. Then she finally turned, her watery__eyes meeting his concerned ones. _

"_It's just bad dreams…" Sara uttered, though her voice was betraying the lie behind her own statement._

"_Talk to me," he said, his other hand sneaking around her waist, encircling and trapping her slender frame._

_Her head turned back to face the wall instead of him. "I can't."_

"_Please." The hand around her waist tightened its grip. This time, she only shook her head vigorously. _

"_Alright. Is there at least something I can do?" Another shake. _

"_Okay. You don't have to tell me. Just please, don't shut me out," his voice was barely a whisper. Tugging gently at her waist, he nearly left the breath he was holding out too loud when he felt Sara finally complying. Slowly, Michael navigated Sara back onto the narrow bed and into his arms again, spooning her in a protective manner. She obviously didn't want to face him, for reasons Michael's secretly fought to accept, hoping that time, combined with enough attention and affection, would make her talk at last._

_For now however, even the feeling of her against him and the ability to shield and protect her against all outward forces that might want to harm her_ _was enough for Michael to feel close enough to happy and content for the very first time since he was admitted to Sona. He felt all this despite knowing how much Sara was hurting at that moment, and he wasn't sure what kind of __man__ that made him._

_But he once made the vow to give her time, not__ to__ pressure her, to let her come to him and not the other way around. And he would not break th__is__ promise__ for anything__._

_Surprisingly, in response to his patience__,__ he almost instantly received a reward. Sara, however __distraught__ and still __alarmingly __silent, spooned close to him, pressing her body as tightly to his as humanly possible. She took his hand that was still resting across her stomach, and bringing it to her lips, she gave his knuckles a quick kiss before lowering it to rest on her stomach again, intertwining their fingers tightly._

"_Thank you," she uttered in a voice so quiet that he could barely hear her._

"_Always__."_

Michael didn't remember much more after that, which left him to conclude that he must have fallen back to sleep shortly after. His body was still weakened from the abusive treatment it received behind the deaf walls of Sona as well as later during his emergency procedure, both leaving him strongly enfeebled.

Now, cursing under his breath, Michael blasphemed the combination of his weariness and the medication for his inability to keep his senses on alert, something that's always been his primary instinct.

Not today however. Today, Sara's managed to silently leave his arms and room, even having the time to exchange his empty IV bag even, while he didn't as much as stir. He gave a deep sigh. Looking through the window, Michael estimated by the grey shadows trying to steal their way into the room that it had to be still fairly early. For the fleetest of moments, he contemplated getting up and limping through the whole house in search to find her, an unreasonable urge to make sure she was alright overflowing his senses.

Yet those emotions were overshadowed by his mind that quickly took over once again, and he gave another sigh before eyeing the now half-empty IV again, knowing perfectly well that he wasn't going _anywhere_ until Sara said otherwise.

_God, she was such a bossy doctor…_

Even despite his worries, he couldn't help a small smile at the thought. Knowing his chances to be rather slim, Michael still cradled the hope that Sara may in fact return to him to spend some more time with him before the house would come to life again. Until then, Michael chose to close his eyes, and immediately had to suppress the images of the filth of Sona flooding his mind. Instead, he tried to change his train of thought into something purer, something more expurgatory, something more _Sara_.

~~ooOoo~~

He must have dozed off again, because the next time he opened his eyes, sunlight was streaming through the blinds, bringing the whole room on fire with light. His IV was now empty and to his disappointment, so was the spot next to him.

A few moments later there was a knock on the door and a familiar face peeked from behind it.

"Hey Mike, you up?"

Nodding, Michael bid his brother inside.

"Morning," he said, watching Lincoln enter and sit next to him in the armchair, filling the room instantly with his bulky frame.

"Sleep well?"

"Like a baby," lied Michael.

"Good," said Lincoln contemplatively, observing Michael. There was something off about his brother, yet he couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was.

"By the way, I just saw Sara," he said, watching the sudden gleam in his brother's eyes with unsuppressed satisfaction. He knew that whatever might be bothering his brother, the mention of Sara would wipe his mind clean. "She's just came down, seems to have slept late."

Michael couldn't suppress a smile that his brother, God bless him, misinterpreted for something far more modest.

"Uhm, listen, I'm gonna go fix some breakfast, and you better prepare yourself for something special, because the fact that we're all alive and well and under one roof, that surely deserves a celebration, okay?" Lincoln smiled hugely and Michael couldn't help but do the same.

Lincoln's features sombered. "You look good though, bro. Seriously. And I'm glad to have you back," Lincoln said, patting his brother's shoulder before getting to his feet. "Okay, I am gonna talk to Sara now, see if she'll drop some of her kick-ass doctor attitude to allow you a meal behind a real table for a chance," he offered, a huge smile plastering over his face again.

"Hey!" called Michael behind him, "Be nice to her. She's doing a terrific job," added Michael, unable to resist the urge to defend Sara's actions and attitude, as a doctor no less.

"I know, trust me, _I know_." Said Lincoln, and with a definite wave of his hand to Michael left the room.

~~ooOoo~~

No less than ten minutes later, a slightly irritated Sara came rushing through the door, and before Michael knew what was happening, his IV was gently being pulled out of his arm.

"You know," Sara started, still fully concentrated on her task, "if I didn't know your brother, I would say he really doesn't care about you _at all_." She dropped the contaminated needle into a trash bag near the bed Michael didn't notice before. "I cannot believe I caved and allowed this. See, I still think you should stay in bed as much as possible, but no...Lincoln _has _to have you at a table for breakfast, and I quote – _'__L__ike a real guy and not as a damned sissy'_."

Despite her anger and irritation, Michael could see the hint of amusement starting to shine trough the cracks in her demeanor.

"There. All set. You can now go eat like a 'real guy'," she said, eyeing him with mocking challenge. He merely grinned at her, and in spite of her efforts to stay angry with the whole male population of the world, Sara soon found herself grinning back at him, then closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"Guys," she murmured under her breath while helping Michael into a sitting position. Indeed, the task took more energy than he anticipated, and Michael stopped to catch his breath, using the opportunity to lock eyes with Sara.

"I didn't even realize when you left," he said quietly all of a sudden, anxiously watching Sara's features for any signs of discomfort. He didn't want to pick a fight with her, not again. _Never_ again. But he itched to know the true reason between the demeanor and he didn't know better than to ask outright.

To his huge surprise, Sara features softened and her face stretched into a broad smile, her eyes mischievously dancing in amusement. "Well, that's probably because you were snoring like a madman," she replied, her words ending in a low chuckle upon spotting his eyes going huge.

"Excuse me? I _snore_?"

"Like a bear," she said nodding, her hand coming to cup his cheek comfortingly.

"That's not why I left though ," she said, her features sobering, growing more serene. "Look Michael-" she started, but Michael beat her to it.

"It's okay Sara, I understand. Really. I don't want you to do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable or pressur-"

It was her turn to interrupt him. "No Michael, you _don't_ understand," she said more forcefully, taking a deep breath before continuing, "so please, let me finish."

He fell silent, waiting patiently while she scrambled in her mind for the right words to explain.

"I didn't leave this morning because I wanted to…or better said, because I _didn't_ want to be here with you. It's just that I am a rather private person, you've surely noticed that by now, and I think so are you. And all these new people, LJ and Lincoln and Jane…they may not be new to you, but they are to me. And I am still trying to come to terms with the lack of privacy our situation has brought us, ever since the lot of us were thrown into this together," she made a funny gesture with her hand, illustrating her words with a gesture of her half-opened fist, rotating in the air like she was spinning some invisible marbles in her grasp. "You and me…we are still so fresh, so new, and despite the fact that it feels all kinds of wonderful, it's still an unknown territory I would prefer to be explored by us, and us only, first." She made a short pause, her eyes slightly narrowing, searching his for understanding. "Do you understand what I am trying to say?"

He contemplated her for a moment, then nodded. "I think I know perfectly well what you mean. And just for the record, I want you to know that I feel the same way. Trust me, if there was any way to make this different, more…'conventional', I would do anything to make it happen. I wish we had all the things normal couples have, the full package with coffees and movies and dinners and maybe a burrito later in the night…" she cracked a smile that made Michael's insides make a loop. He took her hand, rubbing his thumb over the insight of her wrist, locking his gaze with hers. "And I wish I had the chance to simply walk you to the door after a wonderful first date and wait for you to give me the hottest good-night kiss ever, because – and let's face it, Doctor Tancredi - we both know you are not a nice girl," she was openly laughing now, her cheeks flushing crimson, "God I wish we could have that…" added Michael pensively, growing serious again, a tiny pinch of sadness and longing entering his voice.

"Yeah," said Sara wishfully, her laugh dying away. "And yet, I am still incredibly grateful for what we have, no matter under what grave circumstances," she added softly, lowering her head to gently brush her lips against his in a lingering kiss.

"Besides, I think your cocky manner and empty promises for a filet mignon would have discouraged me fairly quickly," she said, the corner of her mouth mischievously twitching upright. He winced, feigning hurt.

"But never forget, there is always tomorrow, right?" added Michael, luring another low chuckle from Sara.

"Indeed there is. Although, don't flatter yourself Michael, I don't give out goodbye kisses on first dates."

He gave a playful pout before disarming her with his most charming, boyish smile. "No exceptions?

She shook her head, her smile ever growing.

"Not even me?" Another shake, another pout, another chuckle.

"Although, you _might_ give it a try, you know, to persuade me. Maybe I would change my mind after all."

"It's a date," he said softly, and she immediately recognized and took in the hint, a nostalgic gleam invading her eyes.

"I swear, even if I have to kill the bull myself, then crawl through the dessert, half dead, with a tuxedo covered in dust and sweat and blood to reach that restaurant, we _will_ have that date one day," he said half-seriously, half goofily, one finger pointedly raised. She gave another chuckle.

"I'll take your word for that Michael," Sara shot back playfully, believing his every word before giving him a couple of chaste pecks on the lips.

"Now, ready to play the though guy for a while?" she asked, outstretching her hands towards him for support as he struggled to his feet. His ribs and leg protesting heavily, he gave a tiny groan of pain.

"Do we really have to go there? Can't you feed me here instead?"

She gave a small burst of laughter, her face all the while growing hot, supporting the side of his body with the injured leg. "You really want your brother to witness _that_?"

He pulled a sore face but shook his head. She nodded. "Thought as much."

"So, what's the famous breakfast surprise over which I have to leave the comfort of my bed?"

Sara smirked. "Well, I'm not sure if it wasn't just some private joke, but your brother mentioned something about pancakes, while rubbing his hands excitedly. Said your current state reminded him of the last time he made them for you," she said, curiously eyeing Michael while they - painfully slowly - made their way to the door. There was a slightly pinkish blush to Michael's cheeks.

"Promise this doesn't go any further then this?"

"My profession binds me to secrecy."

"I trust your word doctor," he shot back nonchalantly. "I was eight and having my leg broken due to falling off a bike, I just peed myself because I couldn't hop to the bathroom in time. '_Comfort food_', that's what Lincoln called it back then," he confessed while sheepishly looking down at her, observing her reaction.

The echoes of her laughter accompanied them through the whole, painfully long way to the kitchen. And Michael enjoyed every agonizing second of it like he was having the best time of his life. Then again, he might have been.

TBC

_Anobody__ out there still reading this?_


	25. Pancakes

**Story: **Fence Talks  
**Characters**: Michael Scofield, Sara Tancredi, Lincoln Burrows, LJ Burrows, Jane Phillips  
**Pairing**: Michael/Sara  
**Rating**: R  
**Genre**: het, angst, hurt/comfort, family, non-epilogue compliant, pretty much AU after 2x22 Sona  
**Word count**: approx. 3400 words  
**Chapter**: 25**  
Summary**: Michael is trapped in Sona, leaving Lincoln and Sara to battle together for his freedom. Nothing is that simple however, and while desperately trying to come up with a plan to stay alive inside the walls of Sona until the day comes to break free, Michael, Sara and Lincoln are faced with obstacles and choices not easy to be made. While attempting to stay strong and sane, some damage seems to be done along the way.

_A/N: Okay, I know it's been a while...like..A WHILE (!), but I've really didn't abandon this story, and I hope you dear readers haven't either._

_Oh, and Ashley, you've got some pretty good guesses on this chapter. ;-) Thank you for your wonderful beta. The remaining mistakes are, of course, all mine. _

**Chapter 25 – Pancakes**

They entered the small kitchen to be greeted by a smiling Lincoln and LJ and the pleasing smell of something warm and delicious, and it was only then that Sara realized just how hungry she truly was. Helping Michael ease into one of the kitchen chairs, she crossed the room to pour a mug of coffee for the both of them while listening to Michael starta light conversation with his nephew.

She looked around the room before her eyes wandered to the seemingly empty hallway, her ears straining for any sound, yet she didn't catch anything that might have suggested the presence of other people in the house except the four of them. She gave Lincoln a quizzical look, her eyebrows rising slightly.

"Where's Jane and her men?" Not wanting to allow the slight panic to spread through her limbs just yet, she waited until she got a straight answer.

"Running some errands. She took two of her men. The other two are patrolling around the house," replied Lincoln in a relaxed tone that eased some of Sara's tension away. "Don't worry," he said, watching Sara's apprehensive features, "she'll be back soon. Said she had some good news before she left but needed to confirm them first."

Watching Sara nod slowly, he then turned on his spot, a huge smile lighting up his whole face, his voice rising to his usual strength. "Might as well use the quiet atmosphere for some comfort food, right Michael?" he winked at his younger brother, grinning widely when Michael's eyes didn't quite reach his. Instead, the younger brother chose to return the subject to Jane.

"Does Jane have any news about the Company?" asked Michael in a guarded voice, his eyes shortly wandering to Sara, still resting against the counter and now listening carefully, the two mugs momentarily forgotten in her hands.

"Well, she wasn't too specific, but she said it might be looking good."

The words caused Michael to turn his head in surprise towards Lincoln and he was not alone. Both, Sara and LJ, wore the same surprised faces.

Michael's expression was still guarded however. "I wonder whether that might mean..."

"She did?" asked LJ disbelievingly, interrupting his uncle's train of though with an enthusiastic boost. "When? When did she tell you that?"

At this, Lincoln actually blushed, a low grunt he tried to mask as a cough leaving his lips. "Last night, after you had gone to bed and Sara was looking after your uncle."

"Oh really?" retorted LJ even more disbelievingly, his lips stretching into a cheeky grin.

"Shut up," mumbled Lincoln, causing the remaining three people in the room to grin, the atmosphere lightening with both, the possibility of good news as well as Lincoln's obvious embarrassment regarding his relationship with Jane.

"Oh, so I don't forget, I spoke to Bruce. He had some news to share too," quipped Sara after a while of comforting silence, joining the conversation of the three men.

"When?" It was Michael's turn to ask, his voice surprised. Sara immediately caught upon his hidden question, of course he wondered when she had the time to make the call. Trying to hide her blush, she looked down to the ground, clearing her throat.

"Um…this morning, right before I came down." She finally looked at him, her eyes pleading with him not to conceal to his brother she'd spent the night with him in his room. To her relief, he just gave a slow non-commital nod despite his eyes shining with something far more rich. Her own shied away from his again, but this time, her cheeks glowed with crimson amusement. To Michael, it was the loveliest sight in months.

"What did he say?" asked Lincoln, oblivious of the silent exchange between the two of them because he was at the moment turned towards the stove, busy turning over a pancake.

Sara cleared her throat again, her voice gaining a more serious tone. "He said he tried further to look into the matter of Bill Kim …" her voice faltered, halting for a beat, her breath shaking in her throat over the name of a man she was forced to kill not so long ago, and Sara had to take another breath before she was able to continue, "It seems he was acting on his own. Bruce said that according to the intel currently coming from various ex-workers of the Company who are now giving up all secrets in order to get a deal with the government, Kim's actions were his own. Maybe he just wanted personal revenge, I don't know, but according to Bruce, all the main henchmen and bounty hunters the Company was using are either dead or in custody."

"Which would put _us_ in a fairly safe place," suggested Lincoln slowly, his lips gradually stretching into a wide grin before quickly turning to Sara and giving her a disbelieving look. "How come you are telling us only _now_?"

Sara merely shrugged, the two cups still clenched in her hands. Then, as if she realized only now herself that both pieces of news might be connected and possibly mean future safety for all of them, her lips slowly started to curve into a small smile.

"He also said," she continued, now training her eyes solely on Michael, "that he's made your case his highest priority. And that if things go according to plan, you could be a free man within a matter of weeks," she finished quietly, ignoring the loud whistles and cries of joy coming now from Lincoln and LJ.

In strong contrast to the other two men, Michael kept silent - stoic even - in his chair. The quiet gentleness and comprehension in his eyes could be only matched by the shyness and softness in Sara's. He had no doubt to whom he could thank for his case being made Bruce's top priority in the man's, no doubt, busy schedule. The two of them kept gazing at each other in perfect understanding. What Sara had said held also another meaning for the two of them then to Linc or LJ. It meant that if things indeed went according to plan, they could be a pair of truly free people in a mere couple of weeks. They could go wherever they wanted, do whatever they'd like. They could finally start their life as a fresh couple, together and safe and in love. In made both of their hearts flutter in hope and nervous anticipation.

The moment was broken with Lincoln stepping between them and clapping Michael on the shoulder before embracing him in a bear hug.

"That's awesome news bro!" turning to face Sara, he added; "Thank you." He said earnestly, his eyes shimming with gratitude.

"You are most welcome," she smiled in response.

"Dad?" asked LJ, an uneasy tone to his voice, "What's that horrible smell?"

"Fuck!" swore Lincoln, jumping to the stove only to see the pancake already burnt. With a shrug, he slipped it into the trash and started to make a new one while LJ congratulated his uncle with a wide grin. Then the boy turned to his father, making jokes about his culinary skills.

Slowly, Sara returned to the table placing one of the mugs in front of Michael. Raising her hand and bringing it to cradle his scull in an affectionate gesture, her eyes quickly checking if anyone was looking, she gave Michael's shorn head a quick kiss, a glowing smile coming to rest on her face.

To some couples, a gesture like this would be of little significance. They weren't an ordinary couple however, and to Michael, the intimacy of her touch and the simplicity with which she's stolen the kiss along with the conspiratorial twinkle in her eye made his heart ship a beat, his lungs momentarily forgetting how to breathe.

However her hand dropped too quickly, much to Michael's disappointment. Instead, Sara circled the room and sat down opposite him, her lips curling into a knowing smirk and eyes playfully shying away after noticing Michael's darkened, hungry stare upon her.

Mouth full of hot pancake, Lincoln turned to his family from the ancient stove with a wide grin gracing his features, one finger raised in order to get their attention while clearing his throat loudly.

"Okay, now this," he pointed to his full mouth, "was just the test pancake, to make sure the dough was alright. But there's still one thing missing!" he spoke dramatically and obviously explaining for Sara's sole benefit before sending a blink to both, his son and then his brother. Sara noticed they both looked rather skeptical.

"I doubt you'll find _any_ in a radius of fifty miles from here," said Michael in mock annoyance, despite shaking his head in amusement at his brother before bringing the deliciously smelling coffee to his lips. He knew only one thing in the world could smell better to him, and she was currently sitting right across the table, her eyebrows raised while giving a puzzled look to him, his nephew and his brother in turn.

"Sara," said Lincoln in order to gain her attention again, "never mind those two doubters there, you are now going to discover the famous secret recipe behind the Scofield-Burrows success!" he proclaimed with even more drama, earning an eye-roll from his son and an apologetic look to Sara from Michael.

Crossing the room in three quick strides, Lincoln yanked the fridge open, extracting a small cardboard look-alike punnet of something Sara couldn't immediately recognize, for Lincoln was too quick and eager to shake the contents into the bowl of dough, his large bulky frame shaking with laughter as his son and brother roared of disbelief.

"C'mon dad, you seriously cannot expect us to believe you've got blueberries in there!" beefed LJ, his gaze now turning to his uncle for support. "Right Uncle Mike?"

Michael merely shook his head in astonishment, eyeing his brother suspiciously. Lincoln laughed.

"Okay okay, the credit goes all to Jane, alright? I have not the slightest idea how she got them, but I asked her yesterday when she was heading out with her guys to look for them and she brought them." There was the slightest tint of breathlessness in Lincoln's expression, causing Michael's face to spread into a knowing grin.

"And what's the price you paid for those blueberries?" he asked while winking at Sara, everybody in the room exchanging amused looks.

"None of your damn business and now shut up or you won't get any of these," grumbled Lincoln keeping his gaze trained firmly at the stove, his harsh tone badly concealing his actual embarrassment.

Still smiling, Michael looked at Sara. He hadn't felt this relaxed since…since he could remember, really. He had his brother out of prison and exonerated, his nephew safe and sound with them, and the woman he loved sitting across from him, ready to share his only real family tradition for the very first time.

Unable to resist, he stole a glance or two at Sara. His eyes hungrily roamed over her face trying to drink in and memorize every inch of her beautiful features, every dip of her flawless skin, every freckle on her nose and speckle of copper in her eyes. Michael couldn't help but wonder momentarily at the complete turn of events. He never pictured his life post Fox River like this. For a start, he and Lincoln were still alive. They made it to Panama, to a safe house where they daily recieved news on how the Company crumbled into pieces back in the States.

But on a whole another note, he thought he'd never find another person to love as much as his brother and nephew. If her were to be honest, there was only a single woman he'd ever loved in his entire life, yet that woman was long gone. Meeting Sara seemed to be a snag in the road at first, the beautiful enigmatic doctor stealing his dreams and thoughts more often than he would like to admit inside the walls of Fox River. On top, the circumstances asked that he had hurt her badly. More than once, more than he could ever forgive himself or make amends for. And yet, somehow miraculously, here she was, sitting mere inches away from him, looking at him with those big doe-like eyes, making him enjoy each newly drawn breath simply by existing.

It took him a moment to break his reverie, wondering for a second as to what brought this contemplative mood upon him. He didn't know exactly but he was grateful. Grateful to simple be here, be alive to see this moment happening. This was everything he ever dreamed he could accomplish and far more. _Sara_ was far more.

Bumping her knee underneath the table, Michael tried to get her attention, feeling a sudden urge to share the moment with her, desperate to communicate with her through the means of mere looks again. She didn't notice him at first, seemingly being lost in her own thoughts. He bumped her knee again, harder. Her eyes finally snapped up. She caught his gaze she smiled back at him, but her attention quickly faded and wondered off again, a layer of apprehension coating her shiny eyes all of a sudden. Michael's smile faltered, a frown creasing his forehead once he took her in properly for the second time since they entered the kitchen. This time he was looking more closely, trying to catch signs that something was off, rather than trying to savor her lovely features.

Her left hand was toying with the handle of her mug absentmindedly while the other one reached up to pull a stray strand of copper hair behind her ear, a sudden air of restlessness falling over her. She started fidgeting in her seat, her eyes roaming the walls of the small kitchen, the atmosphere of a caged animal looking for the quickest exist from a dangerous situation all over her.

Worried by her sudden change of behavior, Michael bumped her knee again, glad for his nephew and brother being engaged in a teasing bickering competition.

"You okay?" he asked her quietly, watching her eyes dart upwards to meet his again, contemplating him for a long moment, as if she needed time to remember where she was.

Realization finally dawning upon her, she gave a small nod, a quick rush of breath leaving her lungs. "Yeah," she said, but her voice was more than a little shaky. "Yeah, I'm fine." She confirmed firmly nodding her head, her voice regaining some of its steadiness and confidence.

Watching her now closer than ever, Sara squirmed under his scrutinizing look, her eyes coming to rest on her mug in deadly concentration, her grip tightening so much on the handle that it caused her knuckles to turn white.

"What's wrong?" asked Michael anew, his voice quiet for only her to hear in the mix of hearty and amused half-shouts now passing between his brother and nephew, who were – thank God - oblivious of the scene unfolding between the two of them. It was as if there was a bubble separating them from the outside world, from the rest of the room, a bubble filled with sudden angst, apprehension and fright, the cause of which Michael was desperately but unsuccessfully trying to figure out.

She shook her head, more vigorously this time, her gaze still stubbornly trained upon the mug, her hands squeezing around it like a weapon. Her lips were pursed tightly, her whole body literally humming with tension.

Not able to passively watch her state of misery any longer without doing anything to help her, Michael outstretched his hand in a quick movement, his fingers closing over her hand resting upon the table.

To say it was the wrong thing to do would be an understatement. His fingers barely touched hers when Sara's entire body jerked away, quickly withdrawing her hand back as if burned. In her haste, she knocked over her mug, sending the rest of the coffee spilling all over the table, floor and partly herself, the commotion making the two uninvolved people in the room turn in their direction in surprise.

Hissing a curse under her breath Sara quickly stood, resolutely stopping Michael from doing the same with her outstretched hand.

"I've got it!" There was a tint of hysteria in her voice and she knew it. Looking around her, she was on the recieving end of three sets of inquiring eyes, two of which she could barely take. The third one she knew she had to skip altogether in order to hold onto the remains of her fragile sanity.

Grabbing a handful of paper towels from the counter, she quickly started to clean the mess, muttering half-hearted apologies under her breath, her hands visibly shaking.

Michael couldn't stand the distraught sight any longer. Standing himself, he circled the table in a few hopping strides before gently grasping Sara under the elbow and making her stop the frantic behavior, causing her eyes to snap up at him.

"It's okay Sara," said Michael in as calm a voice as possible. "Leave it be."

She held his gaze for a moment, then as if not hearing him returned to cleaning up the floor and table, murmuring something about it taking just a minute. Michael could feel both his brother and nephew's gazes, and once again, he cursed the lack of privacy in his and Sara's relationship.

Helpless in what to do, he released Sara with a sigh, leaving her to finish her task, slowly hopping back to his chair. Out of the corner of his eye, he shot a glance at Lincoln and LJ, silently telling them to return to their tasks as well while Sara finished up. When done, she sat back into her chair as if nothing happened, though the expression on her face made it clear to see she was the furthest from okay Michael had seen her since being released from Sona.

"I'm sorry," she murmured to the room, but her eyes rose to look at Michael. He saw they were glistering with panic and humiliation, as well as a silent apology for her previous reaction. She looked close to tears.

"Don't mention it, can happen to anybody," said Lincoln, shrugging it off quickly. Michael was not as easy to let it go, his heart lurching for the woman in front of him who currently looked like a lost child.

Not wanting to repeat his previous mistake, yet not wanting to leave her without any kind of comfort either; Michael caught her gaze again, tender warm blue against uncertain frantic brown. He outstretched his hand slowly, visibly, laying it flat on the table with his palm turned upward, the gesture both, an apology as well as an invitation.

She stared at his hand for a long moment, as if observing each finger, each nail, each freckle upon his flesh, then she finally took it, intertwining their fingers and squeezed tightly.

Looking around and making sure LJ and Lincoln weren't looking, currently busily pretending to being engaged in their previous debate, she mouthed a quiet '_Thank you_' to Michael. He gave her a heart-shattering smile that only seemed to tear her up even more.

"Ha! So, the first one's ready. Who wants to have it?" asked Lincoln, pretending to look for the most suitable subject before his eyes stopped on Sara, giving her a broad smile.

"I think we have a winner. Welcome to the family Sara," he said kindly, putting the plate with the very first blueberry pancake triumphantly in front of her.

She really wanted to stop it, yet there seemed nothing she could do against the sudden protests of her stomach. It gave a twitch and a lurch, flipping and turning inside her over and over. She barely had the time to run out of the kitchen and straight into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, before she emptied the sparse contents of her stomach right into the toilet.

The three men in the kitchen watched her run out in shock before silently exchanging worried looks. Then in a rush of movement and a screech of chair, Michael stood up and quickly limped out of the room after Sara, the loud sounds of vomiting echoing throughout the silent house.

TBC

_AN – And no, she is NOT pregnant guys, relax! Lol, they haven't even had sex yet, so get your horny fantasies under control again, will ya? ;) _

_Anyway, it's been more than half a year, I know, I am horrible. Now, what I need to know, is there still somebody reading this story? If yes, let me know so I know whether to continue or not. :)_


	26. Paul Kellerman happened

**Story: **Fence Talks  
**Characters**: Michael Scofield, Sara Tancredi, Lincoln Burrows, LJ Burrows, Jane Phillips  
**Pairing**: Michael/Sara  
**Rating**: R  
**Genre**: het, angst, hurt/comfort, family, non-epilogue compliant, pretty much AU after 2x22 Sona  
**Word count**: approx. 3000 words  
**Chapter**: 26**  
****Summary**: Michael is trapped in Sona, leaving Lincoln and Sara to battle together for his freedom. Nothing is that simple however, and while desperately trying to come up with a plan to stay alive inside the walls of Sona until the day comes to break free, Michael, Sara and Lincoln are faced with obstacles and choices not easy to be made. While attempting to stay strong and sane, some damage seems to be done along the way.

**Chapter 26 –**** "Paul Kellerman happened"**

"_I think we have a winner. Welcome to the family Sara," he said kindly, putting the plate with the very first blueberry pancake triumphantly in front of her.  
_

_She really wanted to stop it, yet there seemed nothing she could do against the sudden protests of her stomach. It gave a twitch and a lurch, flipping and turning inside her over and over. She barely had the time to run out of the kitchen and straight into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, before she emptied the sparse contents of her stomach right into the toilet. _

_The three men in the kitchen watched her run out in shock before silently exchanging worried looks. Then in a rush of movement and a screech of chair, Michael stood up and quickly limped out of the room after Sara, the loud sounds of vomiting echoing throughout the silent house._

~~~ooOoo~~~

Michael stood in front of the bathroom door, deciding whether to enter without question or give Sara her space. His worry for her winning the better of him, he entered the small space and closed the door behind him with a distinctive click.

Something about this situation was strongly familiar to him, only this time, hopefully there would be no interruptions.

Sara was still being sick, her slender frame uncharacteristically fragile and vulnerable as she heaved and bent over the toilet, huge tremors rocking her whole body. Taking a towel from the nearest rack and putting in into the basin, Michael dipped it into the cool water. He crouched down next to Sara, using his other hand to collect her hair from her face. The skin of her forehead felt hot and clammy and this only spiraled Michael's worries up a notch.

Securing her hair at the back of her head, Michael pressed the wet towel to her neck, his other hand coming to embrace her shoulders for support. As for now, she didn't acknowledge him at all, like she didn't even notice he was there. It only fueled his worry.

He called her name softly, his face coming to rest on the top of her head, waiting. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she seemed to regain some her composure, her breathing slowing down.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, knowing he didn't need to ask. She wasn't okay, yet he didn't know as to why exactly yet.

He could feel her head shaking underneath his cheek. He sighed.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked again, slowly moving the wet towel from the back of her neck to her forehead. Again, she merely shook her head but finally disentangled from the toilet and sat back on her knees, letting her body fall slack against Michael's solid frame.

It frightened him how tired and extremely exhausted she seemed. He gripped her tighter, navigating her body so she could completely rest again him. They sat there for a couple of moments in complete silence. It was Sara who broke the silence at last, all of a sudden squirming against him as if trying to escape his embrace.

"Damn, I'm pressing on your leg, I need to…" she chided, continuing to shift against him when he wouldn't let her.

His patience with her ever present devotion to everybody else but her seemed to went up in smoke as he suddenly half-shouted, "dammit Sara, stay where you are!" His order was sharp, the sudden anger in his voice startling them both. "Just for once, let yourself be looked after. My leg is perfectly fine, what has me worried is you, so please, sit where you are and rest for a moment, is that so much to ask?" he added more softly, the worry clearly audible in his voice. To his immense surprise and relief, she did as he asked, although whether due to his pleads or her fatigue, he didn't know.

He continued to wash her face with the wet towel, her back pressed against his chest, her hair tickling his chin. She had her eyes closed, her skin white and nearly transparent, the huge circles under her eyes more prominent than ever before.

Seeing her like this, Michael swore he would personally see she would get some proper food and rest, no matter what the cost the first chance he got. Silently praying she wasn't more gravely sick than this, he gently rocked her in his arms, pressing a silent kiss here and there.

Finally, she spoke in the tiniest of whispers he's ever heard her talking with; "Under other circumstances, this could have been a perfect moment, you know."

He _knew_. The thought occurred to him only mere moments ago, but he chased it away quickly, ashamed of such thoughts when she was obviously sick and unwell lying in his arms. But he would lie if he said he wouldn't wish for the moment to be a different one.

He took a leap of faith, asking the most pressing question. "What did happen out there?"

She didn't reply, merely leaned against him, her eyes still closed. "I will be fine, I just need a moment," she uttered quietly, her tone trying to placate him. "Sara," he started annoyingly, pushing the subject, the despair in his voice way too evident despite the discontented tone of his voice.

She snapped, jerking out of his grasp with a surprising vigor. Turning in his arms abruptly, she looked in his eyes, an uncharacteristic coldness and anger flashing in her dark pools. "What do you want to hear? Paul Fucking Kellerman happened, Michael," she spat, "Fucking Paul Kellerman, with his fucking story about being a friendly gay addict, that's what happened, it's _that _simple! There, happy?" she hissed.

He started at her, his eyes huge with surprise, contemplating her. Knowing he had no chance of knowing and understanding what she was talking about, the anger left her eyes, the fatigue returning full force. She turned her back on him, collapsing into his embrace again. Fresh tears sprung to her eyes when she felt his hands sneaking securely around her, trapping her inside his warm embrace.

He didn't speak further, he merely waited for her explanation, as if they had all the time in the world. And maybe it was the realization that they truly had time on their hands now that gave her the will to explain. This time, there would be no interruptions, not unfinished conversations, not unclosed topics. This time, she could actually explain something to him in her own time, on her own terms, without the fear of being overheard or interrupted, chased or shot at in the middle of a heartbreaking confession.

She shifted deeper into his embrace, basking in the warmth and security it provided. His lips sought the top of her head, then her forehead, then her cheeks. He did it so slowly, lovingly, his face burying in her neck, claiming her skin. She could feel his hesitation also, the careful deliberation with which he proceeded, his senses alerted and ready to stop and withdraw the second she gave any sign of disapproval or discomfort. She knew too, that he was doing this solely for her, to make _her_ feel better above anything else. Her eyes still closed, a single tear escaped her eye.

"Shall I stop?" he whispered in a husky voice, his breath hitting her lobe and sending shivers down her spine.

She wanted to say _no_, she wanted nothing more than for him to proceed, to show her with his ministration just how much he _really_ cared about her, but she knew it would be a short lived victory, a wonderful escape into oblivion that would have to come to an end at one point or another.

"We shared a blueberry pie," she suddenly blurted out, her voice quiet and trembling. "Paul and I, we shared a slice of blueberry pie, joking over it and having a 'good time'." She felt her words effect instantaneously, Michael's body freezing against her. Not daring to move an inch, she kept her eyes closed and forced herself to continue instead.

"After my overdose," she let out a deep breath and felt Michael's hands sneak around her in an even more protective gesture, "I was court-ordered to attend NA meetings. That's where I've met '_Lance'_," she said bitterly, her eyes finally opening and staring blankly into the space in front of her. "He seemed really nice, had me believing he was a caring person devoted to his boyfriend." She gave a little sardonic laugh and something inside of Michael's chest broke.

"I was lonely Michael, so lonely back then," she admitted, another tear gliding down her cheek. He battled to urge to bend down and kiss it away. He withheld himself however, leaving her the time and space to continue on her own terms instead. "You were gone and my father wasn't talking to me. My work along with my reputation was also gone, not to mention my three-year long sobriety, and I was simply desperate for any human contact whatsoever. A male gay addict seemed safe enough to me. I guess I couldn't have been more wrong," again, the small mirthless laugh escaped her lips. It hurt him less to have his toes sliced off than to listen to her self-depreciating scoff.

"We kind of..._bonded_ over that blueberry cake. He even promised to come to my place one day to bake me 'a proper one' himself." Michael drew in a sharp breath. He never knew this, never knew how close Paul Kellerman got to her, even long before either of them realized what a grave threat the man imposed to all of them. It made his stomach churn, feeling like he would become sick himself. "Ever since when I as much as think about blueberries, it makes my stomach turn," her voice was cracking now, another tear following down the path of her cheek. Michael felt something heavy and suffocating pressing against his chest. _The weight of his guilt and personal responsibility perhaps_, he thought bitterly.

"Fucking bastard," Sara angrily cursed through squeezed teeth, her eyes staring into space, "I used to love blueberries," she whispered in a feeble voice filled with misery. He didn't need to hear more to know what she was now thinking about, he knew only too well what page in her story came next. He knew – if only in very sketchy detail - what Paul Kellerman did to her once he caught up with them in Gila. And bile burned in his throat once again just at the mere thought of what that bastard did to her.

Concentrating on Sara instead, he shifted them again. One of his arms sneaking under her knees so he could partly turn her around and pull her into his lap to lift her from the cool tile ground. She looked so tired she didn't even protest she might hurt him anymore, merely snuggled deeper into him, her face hiding in the crook of his neck.

"Is this what you've been dreaming about this night? Paul Kellerman?" Michael tentatively asked, daring to push his luck just the little bit, now that he had her finally opening up and talking to him about matters she usually kept way too close to her chest. She silently shook her head against his neck.

"That's another kind of dreams," she whispered shakily and so quietly, Michael had to strain his ears to hear her. She sounded feeble and spent and Michael promised himself this was the very last thing he would question her about before he personally saw to that she got some proper rest. He suspected she was talking so openly to him now only because she was already half asleep anyway.

"What are _those_ dreams about?" he gently pushed in a low murmur, his mouth nuzzling in her hair.

"You," she whispered softly at last, after a stretching pause, her voice trembling with emotion. He tried to bring her even closer to himself. "What about me?" he asked in a murmur, knowing he was now completely exploiting her tiredness and fatigue, which were causing her caution and vigilance to lessen. The tried to placate himself only with the thought that it was killing him not to know what bothered her so much that she wasn't granted as much as a full-night's sleep, promising himself he would use this newly acquired knowledge solely for the purpose of helping Sara, any possible way he could.

He felt her trembling in his arms, her voice shaking so hard he was barely able to make out the words. "I dream about _you_, dying. Inside of Sona. Or Fox River, but always…_dying_," she was openly crying now, "and it's all my fault," she wailed, unable to contend her grief any longer, her woe coming out of her in a series of deep painful moans. She buried her face inside his neck once more, crying hard as he held her close. He cradled her against him, rocked her back and forth, whispering hushing sounds into her ear and leaving small tender kisses wherever his lips happened to touch her. All this time, he whispered into her ear, trying to persuade her it were just dreams, telling her he was alright, thanks to her and her only.

Eventually, she calmed down, but it seemed to be rather of exhaustion than real relief. She had her hands wrapped around his neck and for a brief moment, Michael even contemplated trying to lift her up and carry her to the bedroom himself, then he remembered his injured ribs and leg, and that only that very morning a slightly grumpy Sara allowed him to leave the bed for the very first time. Putting two and two together, Michael immediately knew he wouldn't stand a chance against her anger once he as much as tried. Sighing, he contemplated what to do next, but Sara beat him to it, uttering in a feeble and slightly slurred voice, "I guess we've been sitting here long enough for your brother's mind to use up his complete stock of wild and indecent assumptions," she quipped with a sigh, a slightly disappointed tint to her voice. Her comment had Michael smile for the very first time since he entered the bathroom, despite the rather grave moment the two of them just shared.

"I agree. But nevertheless, I think we could move to a more comfortable place, what do you say?"

She only nodded yet didn't make any attempt to move out of his embrace. On the contrary, she merely shifted closer and raised her head, her eyes meeting Michael's. There were dried tears in the corners of her eyes, salty stains coating her cheeks, but it was the look in her eyes that transfixed Michael. The vulnerability and unconditional trust in them was almost too much for him to bear. He didn't deserve her, as much as she didn't deserve any of this. He tried to gulp down the huge lump that suddenly formed in his throat.

As if reading his mind and wanting to put an end to his dark thoughts as well as her own, Sara closed in on him, bringing their lips together. The kiss was chaste, languid and long. They probed and tested, licked and sucked, and they took their time to do so thoroughly. It felt all kinds of amazing, leaving them both highly dissatisfied and wanting more upon breaking up. Minding her fragile state of body and mind, it was Michael who brought the kiss to a slow end, his forehead coming to rest against Sara's.

"Will you do something for me?" he uttered quietly, his eyes drinking in the chocolate warmth of her gaze.

"What?"

"Let me take care of you," he said simply, immediately recognizing Sara's apprehension.

"I'm fi-", she tried to wave him off, but he wouldn't let her.

"Please, Sara," The genuine concern for her in his voice nearly had her convinced.

"Michael, as much as it sounds tempting, we just had breakfast and I need to-"

"Please," he repeated fiercely, not caring if he had to beg her another dozen times only if she accepted in the end. Something in her look shifted. She probably saw he wasn't going to back down, or maybe she was simply too tired to argue, but she nodded at last.

"Okay."

He gave her a relieved smile then rose to his feet, stretching his aching muscles before offering his hand to Sara and helping her stand.

Slowly walking through the house, Michael heavily leaning up against Sara, they were surprised to find the whole place vacated. Something told Michael he had to thank his brother for that later. For now, he only cared to bring Sara to bed and see to that she slept.

He had to endure some more protesting when he gently urged her to drink some water before shooing her into his own bed and pulling the covers playfully over her, up until her chin, the pair of them sharing shy smiles. Within the next five minutes, she was deeply asleep. Michael's heart fluttered oddly when he watched her chest rise and fall in peace at last, her features relaxed and calm for a change. God knew she had paid a high price for that.

Sighing, he bent over her and kissed her forehead tenderly, his lips lingering on her skin maybe a moment too long. With a final brush of his fingers against the side of her head and face, he left the room in search for his brother and nephew. He didn't have much time, for he wanted to be there when she woke, especially in case she had another nightmare. But he had certain questions he needed to ask his family that couldn't wait any longer.

They were sitting at the porch, the odd yet pleasant sight hitting Michael's eyes. Lincoln and LJ shared a bench and talked quietly while bathing in the sun. Michael hesitated for the shortest of moments, momentarily unsure whether to break up their quiet moment. Yet he wanted answers. He _needed_ answers.

"Linc, LJ?" he called softly, waiting for the two men to turn to him. "I need to talk to you."

Strangely enough, their faces weren't surprised by his approach or request at all. It was as if they were already expecting him, just waiting for him to come and summon them personally.

"You want to know about Sara," Lincoln stated, his voice deep and wary.

"Yes," Michael apprehensively nodded.

TBC

_A/N – Okay, I know, wasn't around for ages, but still here and kicking and writing and not giving up on this story. How about you guys? Let me know, you know you want to! ;)_


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